The Grand Crusade (12 page)

What a few weeks might bring, however, did not concern him. He stood on a hilltop outside Svarskya. With him was Alcidese General Turpus Caro, and propped up in a litter was a wounded Okrans warrior named Beal mot Tsuvo. Adrogans would have wished, with her injuries, that she’d remained in the older part of the city, but she refused to be left behind.

And she has earned the right to be here.

Beal mot Tsuvo had led a contingent of her clans folk in an assault on Svarskya. The fighting had been fierce and initial reports had listed her among the slain. Teams removing the dead had found her, cold, wounded but somehow clinging to life. Her right leg and right arm had been crushed and were beyond redemption. But Vilwanese warmages and a magicker from the Loquelven Blackfeathers had begun the process of making her into ameckanshü. They would shape and graft onto her stumps new limbs of metal.

Two others stood beside her. Mistress Gilthalarwin of the Blackfeathers seemed untouched by the cold. Her long black hair hung in a thick braid and her cloak had been thrown back, revealing studded leather armor and the hilt of a curved sword. Her dark eyes focused distantly and Adrogans refused to even hazard a guess at what she was thinking, for the minds of elder races were well beyond his ken.

A small human clad in a threadbare cloak and breechcloth, with no hat or

gloves, wore a sour expression. Ragged cloth swathed his feet. The Zhusk shaman shook his head, dislodging a wisp of grey hair to dangle in front of hisyes> then glared over at Adrogans. “You hardly need this.” Adrogans smiled. “Be still, Uncle. We must know it before we decide if we

need it.“

Below the quintet the hillside facing the city had been dug out and framed up Stout wooden posts had been squared and used to reinforce the redoubt’s walls and floor, and a dragonel had been wheeled up into it. There, ropes and pulleys had been used to move it into place and secure it. A second, smaller hole had been dug a quarter of the way south to house a cask of flredirt.

A young man of Alcidese origin approached and saluted. “If you are ready, General, we can proceed with the demonstration.”

Adrogans nodded, then held up a hand. “You have no doubt you know how this works, Captain Agitare?”

The man smiled. “Yes, sir. Before I served under Princess Alexia and even General Caro, I spent three years at Fortress Draconis. Parsus was at Draconis for eight. We know how this works.”

The little Zhusk sneered. “Only the ironmen know the secret of dragonels.” Agitare shook his head. “Begging your pardon, Master Phfas, but themeckanshüknow the secret of making firedirt. They crewed the dragonels at Fortress Draconis, but the Draconis Baron had teams of us learn how to use them. If Chytrine could make themeckanshümagick fail, the dragonels would be useless, so he had backup crews ready.”

“Proceed, Captain.”

The Alcidese officer waved a hand and the quartet of men in the pit began to work. “Parsus has that bag of firedirt there. It’s enough for one charge. We use a bag and fill it with a wooden scoop because metal might spark, and we don’t want sparks. He pours it in, then Nerus compacts it with that ram. Ebrius, he’s got the iron ball there, and Cassus is wrapping it in cloth to make sure the fit is good and tight. Nerus rams it home and the dragonel has a full belly.”

Adrogans watched the men work and saw no traces of fear. He’d seen the destruction firedirt could cause when the Aurolani forces had used boombags against his troops. The bag was little more than a lot of firedirt and metal shrapnel. It literally shredded men and horses, with the force of-the blast enough to knock people down even if they were unhurt. Had the Aurolani employed them to keep him out of the city, they would have ripped his army to

pieces.

They had not, however, and Adrogans was fairly certain why. A quarter century earlier, Chytrine had introduced dragonels at the siege of Fortress Draconis. The Draconis Baron had taken possession of the only existing weapon and a meager supply of firedirt. He had managed to duplicate the dragonel and firedirt, as well as innovate a number of other weapons. He then manufactured them and used them to make Fortress Draconis unassailable.

At least, unassailable until Chytrine returned with more dragonels and other weapons that shattered it.

The Draconis Baron had steadfastly refused to share the secrets of dragonels and firedirt with the nations of the south. Adrogans had even heard rumors that he had sent assassins out to deal with those inventors who had succeeded in duplicating firedirt. While Adrogans assumed those rumors to be false, he did not doubt the Draconis Baron would have gone to such lengths to keep the weapon secret. While dragonels might have stopped Chytrine in Sebcia or Muroso, had the secret been freely known, the south would have dissolved into a series of wars that would have been even more ruinous than Chytrine’s campaign.

Agitare pointed to the pit again. “The firedirt used in the dragonel’s belly is of a fairly large grain, but the firedirt Parsus is using now to prime the touchhole is much more fine. It will burn more quickly and ignite the larger grains. They will burn slowly and build up great power, which is what will hurl the ball to the tar-get.”

“Very good.” Adrogans looked left to a soldier carrying a big red flag. “Signalman, give the sign to the city.”

The man waved the flag briskly, and down in the city, atop one of many snow-covered hovels, another red flag waved back. The man waving it stopped quickly enough, then slid down the roof and got well away from where he had been standing.

The Jeranese general smiled. “It seems, Captain, that your target is clear. Please, continue the demonstration.”

Agitare again saluted, then entered the pit and plucked a small torch from „ hole in one of the posts. He bent over, sighted down the length of the dragonel’s thick brass barrel, then brought the flame to the touchhole. In an instant a plume of thick grey-white smoke shot up into the air, and for a heartbeat Adrogans did not think a dragonel was very impressive at all.

Then the weapon roared and spat out a huge gout of flame that illuminated the heart of a jet of smoke. The very ground shook, and the thunder started his ears ringing. A swirl of smoke drifted back to sting his eyes, but even nascent tears couldn’t prevent him from seeing a black speck as it flew through the sky. It arced down and smashed into a roof, billowing snow into a cloud and sending up a spray of broken red tiles. A heartbeat later the roof sagged, then collapsed inward and part of the building’s outer walls crumbled.

He tugged at his ears in a vain attempt to stop them from ringing as smoke dissipated and snow drifted back down over the ruined building. Brilliant tactician though he was, he knew anyone who had seen what one small ball had accomplished could calculate the destructive force now at his command. Ten or twenty of the dragonels would be enough to batter down any wall. While the balls would not be the most effective against massed troops, filling a dragonel with smaller shot or stones or jagged metal would rip them to pieces as the boombags had.

So, this is what the Draconis Baron saw.

Turpus Caro’s normally florid face had lost some of its color. “It is smaller Vian a siege engine, easier to move, and far more powerful. As long as there is firedirt and shot, it is formidable. And the effort to employ it

”

“Yes, a few men, quickly trained, can do a lot of damage.”

The Loquelf closed her eyes. “Even after we slay Chytrine, this will be her legacy-It will destroy the world.”

Adrogans frowned. “There are many ways the world could be destroyed, and this is but one of them. Chytrine is still the greatest threat, and we must concentrate on her. Besides, we know how the dragonel works, but as General Caro implied, without firedirt, it is useless. Captain Agitare, what is the supply of firedirt?”

The young man stopped several steps below the hilltop and looked up. “There is not much in the storehouse where we got this lot, but there is brimstone, charcoal, and saltpeter stored there. You could smell the brimstone in the smoke, couldn’t you? We know it is a mixture of all three, but we are working on the proportions. After that it needs to be moistened, then dried, and we are working on that, too.”

“Good. How much shot and how much firedirt will you have when you get the formulation correct?”

“For shot, as much as we want. You can feed them almost anything and it will work, though round iron balls still work best. There are not that many left behind, but the molds were recovered from the ship. We have twenty dragonels. At current supply levels, we could have enough firedirt for fifty shots each, though that will take a lot of transporting.”

“Thank you, Captain. Round up everyone who has had experience at Fortress Draconis and form them into a dragonel corps. Keep me informed on the production of firedirt.”

“Yes, General.” Agitare hesitated. “If I might make a suggestion, sir?”

“Yes, Captain?”

Agitare pointed to the crew on the dragonel. “They’re all part of the Wolves, sir. I would like to make the Wolves over into your dragonel corps. They’re all trained and smart and sworn to Princess Alexia. You cantrustthem, sir.”

Trust them. Adrogans ran a hand over his chin. It pleased him to see that Agitare recognized the great responsibility he was being given. Letting an Alcidese unit sworn to the service of Princess Alexia hold the secret of firedirt would go a long way to quell anxieties about what he might do with those dragonels.

“Very good, Captain. The Wolves will be my dragonel corps. Carry on.” He saluted and dismissed Agitare, then turned to the others. “Shall we inspect the damage?”

Four men advanced to take up Beal mot Tsuvo’s litter. Snow crunched beneath boots as the small procession worked its way into the outskirts of the city

Alexia had an abiding hatred for politics, but had to concede that it proved useful at times. As predicted, Alcidese supply ships arrived a day after they’d been sent for. Alcidese troops also arrived at the same time: the Alcidese Throne Guards, the Queen’s Light Horse, and the Alcidese Iron Horse. As they disembarked, trumpets sounded and blue banners unfurled, making for a display that swelled hearts and even rekindled lost hope.

The grandeur of the troops arriving was not lost on anyone, especially since the two thousand were being supplemented by another three thousand marching up the coast road. Kings and queens were quick to make sure their contributions to the fight would seem no shabbier, either in numbers or appearance. Jerana’s contribution came first, with two infantry regiments and two battalions of light horse. Other leaders scrambled to get their troops moving, or hired mercenaries and formed ersatz Foreign Legions right there in Narriz.

The scramble to produce troops and supplies became one of three sports that kept the politicians occupied. The second was the hunt for the truth concerning Adrogans and dragonels. The Jeranese general’s request for clarification of the message sent had been seen as a ruse at the start, but then General Caro sent a message stating unequivocally that Adrogans did not have dragonels. Alyx knew hedid, and could hardly imagine Caro lying to his king, or being induced to lie, so there clearly was some trickery involved. Everyone else in the town either thought Adrogans was lying or telling the truth. As a result, a lot of words were wasted in heated arguments backed by no information at all.

The third game had all but been eclipsed by the first two, and that was the production of new Norringtons. While there was still some effort being made to promote new candidates to fulfill the prophecy, the latter part of Will’s legacy fit

so well with the need to create military units that things got melded together. Just as Will had led the Freemen, new Norrington candidates became the core of companies and legions.

Curiously, only Scrainwood held his Norrington back. He’d sent for Bosleigh Norrington’s second son by Nolda Disper. Whereas her first son, Kenleigh, did appear to be a Norrington, the second, Redgrave, did not. One look at him left no question that he was his mother’s son, with her blue eyes, white-blonde hair, and willowy form. His face, however, had a pinched quality to it, and the light of intelligence burned dully in his eyes. She’d only seen him once and found the youth apparently in awe of how a button fit through a buttonhole.

That Scrainwood didn’t advance his candidate loudly caused Alexia some anxiety. That show of restraint, as well as his behavior in the Council, made her very uneasy. He was planning something, and she knew she’d not like it, but exactly what he was planning she could not imagine.

That it would make trouble for Crow and the world, however, she was certain. Therefore, she was determined whatever he was scheming would not come to pass.

She looked up from the pages of Crow’s memoirs and over at the man scribbling away at a desk near the window. “Do you really think describing Scrainwood’s eyes as being ‘tight set together’ is wise?”

Crow set his quill down and smiled at her. “I would omit him if I could, but I cannot, so the truth will have to suffice.”

Alyx set the pages down on the bed, then slid off it and crossed to where he sat. She stroked his white mane. “Leigh really was like your brother, wasn’t he?” The man nodded heavily. “He was. I had a responsibility to him and wasn’t able to acquit it. You’ll see, as I write, how brave he was.”

“I’m certain. Resolute has not changed at all.”

“He’s just gotten deadlier.” Crow looked up and smiled at her. “All this was so long ago, and yet setting it down brings it all back. I’ve not thought on some of these things or these people in a long time. Far too long.”

“Or, in the case of Scrainwood, far toooften‘’Alyx leaned over and kissed him. ”Sometime, when this is all over, will you dance with me as you danced the night you all went off on your first adventure?“

“Gladly, my love.” Crow slid his chair back and gathered her in his arms as he stood. “In fact, if I remember how the tune goes, I could hum it and we could practice.”

She smiled, resting her hands on the soft doeskin of his tunic, but before she could answer there came a knocking at the door. Alexia gave him a quick kiss, then strode to the door and threw it open. “Yes?”