Dragons of War (58 page)

As for Captain Eads, he sat on an easy chair in what had been the bedroom on the second floor of the house on the right side of the V-shaped barricade. Down below him were dragons of the 109th Marneri. From this window he had a perfect view down the road to Rundel, which formed a dark crease through the green murk of the woods. Eads had his spyglass raised, but still saw no sign of the enemy Host he expected. He was tormented by doubts. What if he was wrong? What if he was wasting precious time when he could be marching his men south to Fitou? How long could he stand here in good conscience, on the basis of a hunch and a single sighting of a Baguti patrol? What if the witches had been wrong?

On the garden wall of the same house, sitting with their backs to the stone corner pillars, warmed by the sun in the west, dragonboys passed these minutes in conversation.

Relkin and Manuel sat together there. Little Jak was busy repairing Alsebra's pommel guard: wrapping it with fresh leather and pinning it in place with short tacks. Mono came walking by, vaulted onto the earth bank thrown up below the wall, and then climbed the stones to the top.

"Do you think they're coming?"

Relkin shrugged, "I don't know, Mono. Saw some Baguti. Does that mean the whole enemy army is coming this way? You'd have to ask the Mother."

Mono's eyebrow shot up. "Ho! So now Relkin is invoking the Holy Mother?"

Relkin grinned sourly. "Let's just say my religious beliefs are in flux these days."

"You remember ol' Mumplepeezer, the fortune-teller?" said Mono.

"All that stuff about our 'destiny' on a battlefield?"

"Seems he was right."

Relkin looked around again. "Except for one thing. We're in a garden in Arneis all right, but there's no roses. Supposed to be roses you see."

"Mumplepeezer never mentioned anything about roses."

Relkin laughed darkly, "Mumplepeezer wasn't the only one predicting our destiny."

With that Mono had to content himself because Relkin would not say anymore. After a few moments' uneasy fidgeting, he went back to his place on the barricade, beside Chektor.

Relkin and Manuel turned back to their previous conversation.

"So, Manuel, what did your father say when you told him you were volunteering for active service as a dragonboy?" Manuel made a face. "Oh, my! Papa was not happy. He even threatened to disinherit me even though I am his only son. The whole house was filled with his anger. I hid at school. I wanted to run away for a while. My mother persuaded me not to."

Like many orphans, Relkin had a wistful fascination for the details of family life. Bazil and the 109th were the only family he had ever really known.

"It must be wonderful to have a mother, and even to have a father who gets angry," he said with disarming openness.

Manuel studied Relkin's face. "You have no idea who your parents were at all?"

"None. I was put out in a basket by the temple door one night. All I remember is this: my first teacher, old Meddee, she told me that I was a farmer's seventh son and that my mother died in childbirth, which was why I was given up. I never asked her who my father was, I never thought to. And when I was old enough to, she had died and nobody I asked knew anything about it."

"I'm sorry." And both orphans could tell that Manuel was genuinely sad for them.

"You see, Manuel, your life was really different from ours." said Relkin.

"Different from all of ours," said Jak. "I grew up in the orphanage in Marneri, down on Dock Street. We always envied the natural children. 'Bastards' they called us. We had plenty of fights with them."

"That's one reason we had a hard time accepting you at first. For us, this is the only career there is, but you could have done anything."

"I always wanted to be a dragoneer and to serve the empire. I kept it a secret from my parents for years, because I knew they would not approve."

"So what happened when you left for the academy?"

"My father cut off all contact. He kept it up for three months, and I thought I would never hear from him again.

Then he came to see me, and we wept on each other's shoulders and yelled at each other. Finally he accepted that this was what I had to do."

"Do you write to your family now?" said Relkin.

"I sent them a note that went in the last messenger's saddlebags, in case we don't make it out of here."

"You'll come through, Manuel. Now that the Purple Green likes you, you're bound to make it."

Manuel laughed with them. The Purple Green was no easy handful, in fact, he was as much work as two wyverns.

"Ssh, don't wake him. He's still sleeping off two big bowls of corn mush."

"Talking about letters, Relkin, did you ever get a reply to that letter you were writing when we were coming up the river to Kohon?"

"Yes," he said. Relkin didn't want to try and tell them about his strange night visit from Lessis's little animant.

"You asked your friend about destiny. What did she say?"

Relkin knew better than to start babbling about the Sinni and wrinkles in the cloth of fate.

"She said there was a reason for us to go to Arneis. We will discover what destiny means for us here."

"What was that about roses?" Manuel pressed.

"Supposed to be a rose garden in our future, that's all.''

He left them then to fetch some water for the dragon. Crossing the ruined garden, he almost ran into Eilsa Ranardaughter at a corner. She bore a message for an outlying section of the Fird.

Relkin fell in beside her, all thought of water forgotten for the moment.

"And how are you today, Eilsa Ranardaughter?"

She slackened stride by a hair.

"I am well, Dragoneer, and I carry a message for my father. He has kept me busy all day."

"Do you intend to fight?"

"Of course. In whatever capacity my father orders. Probably I will still be a messenger. He will not let me stand in line with the Fird."

"He is right. You really should go to Waldrach."

"Don't be silly. Messengers have already gone to Waldrach. I am needed here."

"I am serious, Eilsa. I love thee and fear for your safety."

She frowned. "Relkin, I am not the kind of woman that wants no more than to sit by a fire all my life spinning and tending children. I can fight, and if Clan Wattel is to die this day, then I will die with it in honor."

Relkin saw Dragon Leader Turrent coming around the edge of the house ahead.

"When this is over I shall find you, Eilsa. Count on that."

Their hands met for a moment and then she was gone, with a long backward glance. He turned and sped away in search of water for the dragon.

Clan Chief Ranard was also on the move during this time. Too anxious to stay in one place, he wanted to inspect one of the clan's positions beside the wall to the vineyard Exelo. As he moved along the battle line, he spoke to all his men, doing his utmost to boost morale.

He passed the dragons of the 109th, most of them asleep, backs to the earthen embankment they'd thrown up inside the barricade. They snored like volcanoes, he thought. Dragonboys must have a hard and peculiar life. And the way the beasts ate! He'd never seen anything like it in his life.

He turned the corner, and a dragonboy bounced off his front.

"Ah, Dragoneer Relkin…"

"Sir!" Relkin felt that intense gaze upon him. Did the chief know about the times he had spent with Eilsa? Relkin held his breath.

"My daughter is, as you know, a person of fiery spirit."

"Yes, sir."

"You are, I believe, an honorable young man. I trust that I am not deceived in this belief."

"You are not, sir."

"Good. We understand each other. But you also know that my daughter will marry within Clan Wattel. She has to do this for the sake of our family."

"I have been told of this, sir."

"Good." Ranard pursed his lips and stroked his beard. "Of course, we have to beat our enemy here before we can marry anyone right?"

"Absolutely right, sir."

"You sound confident, Dragoneer."

"We can hold them, sir. The dragons have their blood up." A huge snore cut through the air. They both smiled.

"They're tired, of course. We've covered a lot of ground these past few days."

"And we fought a great battle."

"True, sir."

"Well, Dragoneer Relkin, if we should not happen to meet again, I would shake thy hand."

The clan chief's grip was hard, the essence of the durability of the Clan Wattel.

Ranard went on. No sooner had he turned the corner than there came a whistle and a shout. Captain Eads came bursting out of the corner house and jumped into his horse's saddle.

There was a shout down the line.

"Eyes front. Enemy in sight."

And out from the eaves of Rundel wood came a skirmishing line, perhaps three hundred imps, set well apart, loping through the wheat field.

Some Baguti horsemen had appeared, too, riding up the road in the middle of the skirmishers. Behind the initial troop of riders came a larger column, and behind that appeared a solid, dense mass of cavalry. Eads knew that he'd been right, and that he and his small army would now be put to the greatest test of their lives.

Behind the barricade the dragons perked up. Huge heads on long necks inclined as they stared at the approaching enemy. And then they hid themselves, crouching down behind the barricade.

The Baguti came on until they were within a few hundred yards of the barricade. At last its presence was observed by a commanding officer. A squad of horsemen rode forward to inspect it.

They rode up on the road between vineyard walls, came to a halt just out of bow shot, and stared at the ungainly pile of tree trunks and debris.

A horn blew peremptory blasts from behind them. The scouts argued among themselves and then one of them rode close, right up to the bottom of the crazy quilt mass of entwined poplar trees, wagons, barrels, beams, and winepresses. He dismounted, climbed up the outside, and peered over the top, right into the face of a monstrous great Gazaki.

Chektor caught him the next moment with a huge hand, and lifted him smoothly and cleanly over the top of the barricade and into cover behind it. The scout was so surprised that he was slow to scream. When he opened his mouth to start, a legionary thrust his sword into the scout's heart, silencing him. Nothing but a momentary squawk had escaped, and silence fell once more across the scene.

The scout's horse cropped grass at the side of the road, and began to wander back toward the others.

The other scouts muttered among themselves and called out to their fellow beyond the barricade. His disappearance had seemed a little abrupt. Something odd was going on. Why did he not reply? Three more edged their horses closer and called again. Still no reply was to be heard.

The horns were blowing madly back in the column. The scouts carefully refrained from looking back, so they missed the furious signals for them to go on and climb the barricade. The scouts cast their eyes instead on the imp skirmish line that was advancing across the vineyards.

The scouts waited until the skirmishers were within bow shot of the barricade and then they turned and rode their mounts furiously back to the column where they gave a voluminous report. One of their number had gone over the pile of trees and failed to return. They pointed to the imps and suggested that the imps be sent to investigate.

The Baguti chieftain was enraged and spent several minutes venting his anger at their miserable performance. Then he sent a messenger across to the imp commander, a dour man with filed teeth and a taste for human flesh.

The imp commander barked with amused contempt and gave the orders. The imps complained, as they usually did, but flasks of black drink were handed around and then their sergeants worked on them with clubs and words, and they were driven forward to climb the barricade. Up they went and reached the top.

On the far side they found nothing, an empty street, a mound of dirt along the inside of the wall, but no sign of any enemy soldiers.

Delighted, the imps called back the news and made rude jokes about the cowardly Baguti. Still hooting with glee, they stepped down inside the barricade and pushed forward into the empty street. There should be some loot in this place. It looked prosperous enough.

Once they were all down inside the barricade, a sudden fusillade of arrows swept through them. Virtually all were struck simultaneously. A handful remained on their feet, and these were immediately felled by spears and further arrows. Their cries were few and far between, and cut off early.

Once more the silence grew long and ominous.

The imp commander swore at his sergeants, and more imps were sent stumbling forward to the grim pile of trees and debris. They clambered to the top and found an empty street. Not even the bodies of their comrades were to be seen.

Baffled, they turned and called and gesticulated. A sergeant ran back with the news. The imp commander called for reinforcements.

More officers rode up, stern men in black, with glittering badges of rank on their breast. They demanded to know what the hold up was about.

The majors were most concerned. General Lukash was riding the army hard. He had already given orders for black drink to be dispensed to the imps. They were to march all night with as much black drink as they wanted, whatever it took to get them into Waldrach by the morning.

The road behind them was jammed with men, imps, trolls, and an immense train of wagons. The majors ordered an assault column of five hundred imps sent forward to clear the barricade.

The imps were formed up. The horns blared, and the sergeants shoved them forward as the imps rose up the outer wall of the barricade with their harsh scream of battle coming from their lips.

With drums beating and battle flags raised high, the enemy assault column marched forward purposefully.

Captain Eads nodded to Dragon Leader Turrent. They would delay the battle no longer, although Eads was well pleased with the skillful execution of his chosen tactics during the initial phase. Every minute's delay was golden. There was still no word from the south. Somehow his small force would have to hold this position until they could be relieved.