Battledragon (38 page)

Monkeys began screaming at each other in the treetops nearby. He paused a moment beside a standing stone. He had covered half the distance to the real forest, where there were trees tall enough to provide a safe haven from ten-foot-tall birds.

Just ahead was a patch of small trees with white trunks. He stared at them, willing himself to see through the dim light and the grey vegetation. Carefully he examined the clump of trees. Were those pale bars the trunks of trees or massive legs? It was very hard to be sure, but after a minute or so he concluded that the small trees were safe; no bird lurked within.

He peered around himself in the gloom. Could the birds have gone? Was he simply wasting time being this cautious? It would be wise to get back to camp before Wiliger started searching for them. He didn't need any more trouble with the dragon leader. He'd only just gotten out from under the last load of punishment details and hardly needed any more.

Perhaps the birds had withdrawn to sleep. Relkin hoped with all his heart that they were predators of the day and not the night as well.

The forest loomed grayly in the near distance. He should be on his way. And yet, something kept him back. He hesitated to leave the protective shadow by the stone. He put his hand out to the stone. It was cool to the touch and reassuring.

Then it trembled under his hand, and he looked up just in time as a massive head was swung over the top of stone and driven down at him. He ducked and darted away to his right. A huge beak snapped shut just inches from his head.

The damned thing had crept up on him while he was scanning the clump of trees! By implication, that meant the birds could see well in the dim light.

Relkin ran, forcing himself on as fast as he could go. He broke through a tangle of vines, almost tripped and fell, but managed to stagger on into a cleared space. Here he stretched out in a sprint, the breath hot in his throat, his heart hammering wildly.

The bird was close behind him, slowed slightly by the vines. Ahead was a tumbled pile of great square stones. He sprang among them, twisting left, then right, then right again, while the huge bird bounded along behind him, twisting in pursuit. Again, he gained a little ground. The bird was too massive to match him in such maneuvers.

Away in the trees the monkeys screamed at the approach of night while he ran for his life through the ancient stones, pursued by swift avian death. He could feel the heavy body behind him. He could hear the thud of its feet on the ground. On the straight it gained on him. He kept weaving, looking for a tree he could climb very quickly. That seemed his only chance.

And then he saw it, a temporary asylum, a fallen tree, the trunk hollowed out. The space was just wide enough for him to wriggle inside the trunk, but the giant bird could never manage it.

He fairly flew over the last few yards, the bird gaining with each drive of its huge legs. It was right behind him when he launched himself in a dive that took him sliding straight into the darkness of the hollow log.

The wood was slimy within, and he went in a lot farther than he'd expected and ended with a thud against something solid. He struggled for his dirk, and then his hand fell on the obstruction and found it to be wood.

It was too dark to see much, except for a circle of grey light at the other end. Something ran over his hand, and he jerked it back and got to his knees, holding the knife out ahead of him.

Then the whole tree shuddered as the giant bird tore at the opening behind him. Questions ran through his brain. How long was the tree? Could he get out at the other end? What else might be in there with him?

He listened intently, aided by the fact that the bird had given up attacking the open end of the tree and was stalking along the length of the hollow trunk. He listened especially for the hiss of a snake. It would be just his luck to put his hand on some poisonous serpent that he couldn't even see.

Several seconds went by and he heard no hiss, hardly a skitter. Cautiously he edged forward, testing ahead with the point of the dirk. Every so often he stopped and listened carefully. The forest beyond the log still echoed with the screams of monkeys.

Then, a little later, he noticed that silence had fallen on the forest. Nor could he detect the vibrations of the bird's feet. The bird had stopped moving. Had it gone away? Ahead was the dim grey circle of the other end. He went forward, eyes straining, hands encountering slime, mold, and insects. At some spots he had to crawl through tight places, enlarging them with the dirk where necessary. The inner wood was rotten and crumbly. As he worked insects moved about him, but thus far nothing had bitten him. He breathed a little prayer to the old gods. The divine dice were rolling for him.

At length he approached the far end of the hollow trunk. He stared at it cautiously. Was the bird waiting out there? If so, how long might it stay?

To get out meant going out on hands and knees; the opening was too small for anything else. If the bird was waiting there, it would have a good chance of catching him. This was a dismal thought, but the only alternative was to stay in the log and lose the chance of reaching the camp and getting help.

Carefully he stuck his head out for a look around. He saw the huge head coming down and scrambled back for safety.

With a splintering crash, the bird's bill slammed into the end of the tree and broke off a V-shaped chunk of wood. This gave the bird pause, and it examined the place it had damaged intently.

Relkin retreated into the interior. The bird attacked the tree again. With that heavy beak, it was capable of breaking up the weaker sections of the rotted-out tree. Relkin kept moving.

Abruptly the tree jumped, and the section above his head gave way. Rotten wood showered down. He glimpsed the dark mass of the bird's head and flung himself backward with desperate energy. The head came down and the beak sank into the wood directly over him, spearing through like an enormous ax head.

He should have died then, but the bird had miscalculated. The wood at this point was weakened but not yet rotten. It was wet and yielding, but still possessed strength. It admitted the great beak and then gripped it fast.

There was a moment of stillness as this appalling news reached the bird's brain, and then the whole tree trunk shifted an inch or two as the bird heaved madly on its bill.

Relkin stared at the great hooked beak, jutting into the wood right in front of his face. The tree shook and realization dawned on him. Then he came to life and scuttled for the nearest opening.

A few moments later he burst free. A quick glance around showed no other predators. He ran for the forest. When he was among the tall trees, he looked back. It was hard to see in the dark but he detected the bird still bent over the fallen log, flapping its tiny wings uselessly as it struggled.

He ran on, keeping to the most open spaces he could find. By great good fortune he came out onto a sandy beach with the river flowing beyond it. He quickly oriented himself and headed upstream toward the campsite.

He knew he was close when he smelled the hot kalut. Dinner was already over. When he reached the cookshacks, he saw piles of dirty pans being lugged down to the riverside where the men and dragonboys on punishment detail would scrub them until they shone.

Dragon Leader Wiliger greeted him with a scowl, and Relkin sighed inwardly.

A rescue party was swiftly assembled. A dozen archers accompanied five dragons, armed with sword and shield. Relkin led the way, and after half an hour of blundering around in the dark, they found Swane and Jak still alive, holding out on the top of the wall. The little striped elephant was still with them.

At the arrival of the men and dragons, the terrible birds had faded back into the undergrowth, where they remained. The fallen log that had preserved Relkin had been broken in half and the trapped bird had fled as well.

The dragons gathered around the corpse of the bird downed by Relkin's arrow.

"That is a big chicken," said Vlok.

"Vlok is not good at telling different birds apart," grunted the Purple Green.

"That's no chicken. No chicken has a beak like that. It looks more like an eagle," said Bazil.

"I ate an eagle once," said the Purple Green. "It didn't taste very good."

"A disgusting thought," said Alsebra.

The wyverns silently all agreed. Wild winged dragons were capable of eating the strangest things. And yet they turned up their noses at fish?

Bazil poked the dead bird with his sword.

"It might be good, roasted," said Bazil.

"We certainly shouldn't waste it," said the Purple Green.

"How are you going to get the feathers off it?" said Vlok.

"Dragonboys are good for some things."

And so they butchered the fallen bird and carried its carcass away to the cookshacks. There it was swiftly plucked, cut up and set over the fires. Everyone agreed that it did, indeed, taste like chicken, only it was a hell of a lot tougher. Some parts were more the consistency of leather than meat. Dragons devoured it all anyway, and slept soundly thereafter.

At first Dragon Leader Wiliger did not know that "Stripey," the terrier-sized elephant, was traveling with them. Jak was clever in his selection of hiding places, and Wiliger spent much of the time in his tent.

The little elephant was immediately popular with the dragons, who found his antics amusing. He particularly made them laugh when he ran up the Purple Green's back and perched on his massive head. In just a day or so Stripey had become the sqadron's mascot.

Wiliger did not approve when he finally caught on. The dragonboys protested.

"There are no regulations specifically against having a squadron mascot. Some Kadein squadrons have mascots."

"That may be, Dragoneer Relkin, but I am in charge here and I forbid the presence of pet animals. Mother only knows what sort of diseases it's carrying."

Wiliger would not listen to their pleas. Stripey was dragged out on the end of a piece of rope tied around his neck. Before their horrified eyes, Wiliger picked up the little elephant and threw him off the raft.

There was a rush to the edge. Crocodiles were sliding into the stream on the near side of the river.

"Any boy who goes into the water will be flogged."

They paused. Jak looked back with anguished eyes. Mutiny boiled just beneath the surface. Feelings close to murder rose in Relkin's heart.

The raft tilted suddenly. Dragons were there, too.

"Mascot is in the river," announced Vlok matter-of-factly.

"Well, don't just stand there," said Alsebra. "Either go in and get him or let me through so I can."

Her remarks were cut off as a huge body launched itself into the water with a tremendous splash. The whole raft shuddered and shook.

A leatherback surfaced and with two powerful strokes of its tail propelled itself to the struggling form of Stripey. The pygmy elephant was rescued the next moment, and the dragon pushed itself back to the raft. Stripey was tossed up onto the raft.

It was a more laborious process to haul two tons of leatherback out of the river onto the raft, which though stoutly built, was still just a raft and tended to bend and dip under the surface when he pressed his weight on the edge. Other dragons made it worse by crowding the side in their efforts to help. At one point the whole raft threatened to tip over, and there were frantic calls to the dragons to move back from the edge.

Nor did the freshly rescued Stripey help as he danced around them, hooting and squealing with excitement. Twice he was nearly stepped on, until Vlok picked him up and deposited him on top of a pile of wood.

The crocodiles, drawn by the commotion, were getting close when at last they hauled Bazil back onto the raft, which again almost tipped over with so much weight on one side.

Wiliger had watched all this with growing chagrin. His authority had been flouted. Still something held him back from a complete explosion. The fact that the dragons wanted the animal as their mascot made it much more difficult to simply get rid of it. A dragon leader was there to guide his dragons, not to get into conflicts with them. This was so basic to the Dragon Corps that not even Wiliger could ignore it. Wiliger had a gut feeling that if this was protested to higher authority his decision would be overturned. Higher authority, in the persons of Generals Steenhur and Baxander, had shown itself to be cool, almost unfriendly to the new dragon leader of the 109th Marneri. Wiliger did not want to test his support among his superiors. There was still the embarrassment of his mistake at the Battle of Koubha. General Steenhur had said very unkind things about that.

For now, anyway, he publicly accepted the presence of the little elephant. There was really no alternative. It had become clear to him that his policy of staying aloof from the unit, following his embarrassment at Koubha, could not succeed in restoring his authority. To be their real leader, he had to win a place among them. They were all against him, and he could not win in such a situation. The squadron as a social organism had a natural strength. He had to do something about that.

A day or so later, Relkin sat at the front of the raft, under bright sunshine, resetting some buckles on the girth strap from Bazil's joboquin. He felt a presence behind him and turned to find Dragon Leader Wiliger approaching in shirt and trousers. He murmured a hello and gave a soft salute. Relkin breathed an inward sigh of relief.

The relief soon evaporated. Wiliger took up station on the front of the raft just a few feet away and studied Relkin. Relkin grew nervous. He had just cleared himself of a mountain of cookshack work details. Nervous hands were all thumbs, and he pricked himself with the needle and cursed under his breath.

Wiliger sat down close by.

"A beautiful day, eh, Dragoneer Relkin?"

Relkin blinked. It had been months since Dragon Leader Wiliger had tried to be pleasant with anyone in the squad. Relkin was vaguely shocked by this abrupt change.

"Yes, sir," he said quietly, as he always did. It was best not to excite Wiliger in any direction.