Fortress Draconis (76 page)

Will cocked his right hand back, then let fly with the stone he’d grabbed when he pushed off the ground to stand. The rock sped true and smashed the creature clutching at Ryhope’s hair in the face. Its hissing shrank into a sigh that ended with a thump and grunt when it hit the bridge railing, then flopped off to the streambed.

Will’s second stone missed the other creature’s head, but he’d shifted his aim at the last moment to avoid hitting Ryhope. He caught the beast in the left wing, near the shoulder, and clearly snapped the limb. A thin sliver of metal gleamed in Ryhope’s right hand. She’d drawn the dagger from a sheath at the small of her back and plunged the curved blade into the beast’s breast, angling up under the ribs. She twisted the blade back and forth quickly, then wrenched it free.

Blood splashed over the bridge a second before the creature landed and twitched. Will darted under the bridge, grabbing up a heavier stone in both hands. As he emerged he raised the big rock, then swung it, dashing out the brains of the creature he’d felled.

He started to straighten up, but Ryhope joined him in the streambed and pulled him back down in a crouch. “There may be more.”

-“What are they?”

“Araftü,the non-elf half of Gyrkyme.” She smiled. “If we live through this, we can add feathers to our masks— andAraftü feathers are rare indeed. Chytrine did not use

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them in the last war, but she probably decided she wanted something to counter our Gyrkyme and their firecocks.“

“So what were they doing here?”

“Scouting. Chytrine probably told them to kill any targets of opportunity, and we looked pretty defenseless. If they’d managed to kill us, imagine how disheartening it would be for people to know they were not safe even here.”

Will smiled. “And now she’ll have to think about the two we killed. Maybe we just pluck a few feathers and send the rest back, with our compliments.”

“Not a bad idea.” Ryhope reached down and pulled the rear hem of her skirt up between her legs and tucked it into her waistband. “I’m going to run to the tower door there.”

Will hefted two rocks. “Anything wings its way at you, 111 get it.”

She reached down and yanked a handful of feathers from the deadAraftü. “So they’ll know what we’re up against.”

He nodded and weighed the rocks in his hands. “Go.”

Ryhope set off and moved nimbly from stone to stone, staying low. She ran fast and reached the doorway unmolested. She waved Will to her. “Quickly.”

The thief leaped from the streambed and sprinted as fast as he could toward the doorway. The white stones proved poor footing, slowing him. He pushed off with his left foot to cut right, onto the stepping-stones, but slipped and went down instead. A whoosh of something swooping through the night, the light brush of feathers against his face, and a quickly receding hiss told him how closely he’d been missed.

Coming up to his knees he looked left, hoping to see theAraftü. He was able to pick out its dark form, wings spread, wheeling around on its left wingtip to come back at him. He readied one of his stones, but it ducked back down beneath the level of the wall and he lost sight of it for a moment.

What he did see clearly, however, was a flash of white, followed by a hideous squawk and then a triumphant shriek. White stones showered everywhere as Peri slammed theAraftü into the ground. She perched there on its back, her wings furling, her toes curled into the creature’s plumage. The Gyrkyme reached down, grabbed theAraftih head at jaw and crown, then twisted mightily, snapping its neck.

She lifted her face to the sky and shrieked again.

Will shivered and stood slowly. “Peri, thank the gods you got it.”

Peri sprang from the body and spread her wings enough to tuck Will beneath one as she herded him to the tower door. Ryhope already had it open and shut it after the two of them had entered. “You’re not hurt, Will?”

He rubbed at his left shoulder. It felt sore, and he was surprised to find his tunic was torn and his hand slick with blood. “I didn’t even feel it.”

Ryhope tore a strip out of her skirt, wadded it up, and wiped the blood away. “A couple of cuts, not very deep. A stitch or two will close them.”

Will nodded. “Peri, how did you know they were about?”

“Qwc wanted to go bug-hunting—something about northern moths being tasty—and invited me along. We were on top of the tower when we spotted them.” She looked at the bloodied talons on her right thumb and forefinger, then licked them. She wrinkled her face. “Sour, but better than moths. Anyway, a clean kill is never bad.”

Ryhope raised Will’s left hand and used it to press the cloth to his wound. “We need to get you taken care of, Will. Thank you, Perrine, for saving us.”

The Gyrkyme snorted. “Well, what good is a pet if she lets her master get killed byAraftiP.”

Ryhope raised an eyebrow and Will blushed. “Please don’t ask.”

“As you desire, Lord Norrington.” Princess Ryhope laughed warmly. “Knowing that first blood has gone to us, and at the hand of the Norrington no less, is more than enough for me this night. It’s not a great victory, but one that will hearten our people, and that could make all the difference in the coming battle.”

fTlhe next morning, at first light, the gates of Fortress I Draconis opened and a cortege rolled forth beneath a 1 white flag of truce. Three carts carried five shroudedAraftü corpses among them, with Alexia, Crow, and Resolute riding out to lead them. Alyx felt a bit apprehensive in that role, since she held no command position at Fortress Draconis. In fact, she had discovered, the black thread outlining the embroidery on her tunic marked her as a noncombatant in the fortress’ scheme of things.

She actually harbored no illusions about safety when it came to accompanying the bodies. The Draconis Baron had asked the three of them to ride out because she had killed asullanciri, and both Crow and Resolute were capable of the same. That they were also expendable counted for a great deal.If she refuses to honor our flag, we will perish in a thunderborn hail of metal.

As she rode from the gate she marveled at how the path sloped down, raising the spiked walls around her, higher and higher. The menace of the dragonel batteries became even more real to her. In the blink of an eye the greensward over which they rode would.become twisted and torn, muddy with blood and sown with broken, screaming bodies.

They rode into the shadow of the easternmost stronghold and stopped. Crow planted the truce standard in the ground. Alexia resisted glancing at the stronghold and at the small sally port at its southwest corner. The Draconis Baron had told them they could retreat there if Chytrine attempted to murder them, but she doubted they could cross the hundred yards to safety if the massed Aurolani batteries spoke as one.

A guttural cry went up from the Aurolani lines. Two individuals, the one on the grand temeryx bearing a flag of truce, emerged from the Aurolani formations. The rider had been encased in metal armor that appeared black at a distance, but showed signs of rust and pitted corrosion as he came closer. His mail coif allowed her to see his face, all withered and dried, his nose shrunk to the point where his nostrils had just become slits in the middle of his face. His leathery lips were pulled back to expose black teeth. His eyes had a milky film over them and viscous, puslike fluid ran from his nose to drip from lips and chin.

His companion, anothersullanciri, required no mount. Her legs had been stretched and reshaped to resemble those of a temeryx. Black feathers covered her body, save for a brilliant sulfur crest, a splash of same on her throat, and a slender V running from shoulder to loins and back up over each breast. Her dark gaze flicked from face to face amid the trio.

The urZrethisullanciri pressed clawed hands together. “My Mistress welcomes this chance to offer you mercy. I am Ferxigo. This is Ganagrei—he who was once Brencis Galacos. I speak for Chytrine in this matter. These two I know, but you, you would be Alexia of Okrannel.”

Alyx shivered, feeling as though thesullancirts soft, supple words had somehow stripped her naked. “I am

Alexia. We are not here to discuss mercy, but to return the bodies of your deadAraftü. You may tell their brood they died well. The Norrington slew the first, elven archers two more. The Draconis Baroness and the daughter of Preyknosery Ironwing dispatched the others. We would understand, given this ill omen and the presence of the Norrington, if your Mistress chooses to withdraw from the field. As the morrow is the Draconis Baroness’ birthday, we would offer you a day of peace to return north in her honor.“

Ferxigo closed her large eyes and slowly shook her head. “Your kindness will be unnecessary, as the unfolding of events will make apparent. We would wish, however, the Draconis Baroness all peace on her day, and will attempt to conclude things such that she may be granted same.”

The princess nodded. “Haste will cost your Mistress dearly.”

“And you shall be forgiven a statement made in ignorance.” Opening her eyes again, Ferxigo looked at Crow. “You know surrender will save lives, will make things painless.”

Crow snorted. “If you still had a soul, you would recognize the agonies surrender brings. Never. Please, tell her that. Never.”

The urZrethi laughed and Ganagrei started a hideous chuffing that sank into a gurgle as dark fluid dripped through his lower teeth. The shape-shiftingsullanciri smiled, revealing sharpened peg-teeth. “You have a price. It will be wrung from you at one time or another.”

Resolute growled. “You won’t be there to collect it.”

She laughed again, harshly. “No, I shall perhaps be in your homeland, razing Voragul, or in Okrannel or Oriosa, amusing myself. You will all likely be dead, and as Ganagrei demonstrates, death is no bar to entering my Mistress’ service.”

Rising on her hind legs, Ferxigo looked beyond them at the wagons. “As for those bodies, they are of no use. Were my Mistress in the habit of rewarding failure, there would be many more in line for use than these. I shall not bid you farewell, for this day will not be kind to you. I think I shall bid you reason, so you can find the true path through what shall follow.”

Ferxigo turned and raced back toward her lines. Ganagrei followed, after a moment’s delay, leaving his flag of truce stuck in the ground. As the twosullanciri rode clear, activity increased on the Aurolani side of the field.

Crow reined his horse around. “Dump the bodies, turn the carts; hurry. Come on, behind me.” He urged his horse forward and plucked the first carter off and onto the back of his saddle. Alyx got the second driver and Resolute the third, then they galloped as fast as they could back into the fortress.

From behind them Alyx heard a series ofcrumps that cracked at the edges, then a series of explosions that shook her. The din echoed off the fortress’ walls, pounding her, and something whizzed past her head, but she couldn’t tell what it was. She ducked her head as she followed Crow through the sally port in the main gate, then she dismounted and ran up the ramp to the Lion battery to see what was happening.

The crumping sounds continued, slightly lagging behind the flash of fire and puff of smoke from the squat dragonels she’d seen the day before. Crow pointed to the sky and she could see dark dots arcing high into the sky. She followed one in its flight and saw it hit the ground, then it exploded and metal fragments flew, some striking sparks from the fortress walls. Another actually exploded in the air, barely twenty-five feet off the ground, tearing the turf and making it dance like the surface of a puddle being assaulted by raindrops.

All that remained of the wagons, horses, andAraftü were smoking splinters, twitching horseflesh, and black feathers incongruously drifting gently to the shredded greensward.

The little dragonels—Will dubbed them skycasters— shifted their aim and began to rain their projectiles down on the eastern stronghold. Air bursts blasted soldiers from the walls, tearing some apart and just knocking others about with the concussion. Some of the thunderballs— another Willism—bounced down into the stronghold’s central courtyard and exploded with a bright flash. Yet other balls skipped off the walls to land in the field to explode, and one or two failed to detonate at all.

Will, who leaned on the battlements between Crow and Dranae, wondered aloud, “Why aren’t they shooting back?”

Alyx pointed toward the revetments shielding the skycasters. “They’re beyond the range of our dragonels. It scarcely matters, though, because those thunderballs can’t take the fortress. That requires troops, and they will get into range.”

Drums began to pound behind the Aurolani lines. Ranks sharpened up. Crude ladders were passed from the back to the fore to be borne by squads of gibberers. Alyx estimated the distance they would have to cross to be eight hundred yards. At a dead run it would take them two minutes or so to reach the stronghold.

The Aurolani troops did not run, but instead moved forward in an organized manner, marching in time with the drumbeats from behind the lines. Slowly they came on, pace by pace, fearless, chanting, legion after legion, advancing across an eight-hundred-yard front with the wings paced a bit quicker so all sections of the formation would reach the stronghold at the same time.

Seven hundred yards, six, then five. At five hundred yards the first rippling explosion from the stronghold cut loose, spewing fire and iron through thick grey clouds. The iron balls smashed down into their formations, splashing bodies, bouncing, crushing others and on until spent. One shot blew through a hoargoun’s chest. The giant peered down at the dripping hole torn through it, then flopped forward, squashing gibberers.

Vylaens snapped orders and the formations’ ranks contracted. They continued their orderly march, leaving the field behind them strewn with bodies. Onward and onward, unwavering, filling the gaps, getting closer and closer.

The other strongholds began to shoot as well, crisscrossing the field with sizzling metal. Gibberers fell, with whole swaths scythed through their midst, but still they kept coming.

Smoke began to clog the battlefield, affording Alyx only little glimpses of what was going on. When the Lion battery began to fire it made the condition worse, since the acrid, bitter smoke seared her eyes and made them water. Even so, the smoke and tears couldn’t hide the fact that the sheer number of Aurolani troops, and the rate at which the dragonels could be recharged and set off, meant the stronghold could never kill enough to prevent the troops from reaching it.