“I know you mean that, Malik, but I still don’t understand it. I would be on her back and on my way right now.”
Malik grinned. “You can always ask her.”
“Ah… no,” Teirnon said and then laughed. “She would probably eat me.”
“No she wouldn’t. You’re too tough and stringy!”
“Ha!”
Teirnon and Malik made their way through the camp. The dragons had chosen a place along the river to rest. The lazy creatures could simply snake their long necks over the water and dip their muzzles for a drink without getting up. Luckily, they didn’t need to eat as often as humans. One huge meal per tenday or so was enough for them and a good thing too! Unlike Tindebraisha, there were very few wild animals large enough to satisfy a dragon’s appetite. Only on the Camorin plains was there sufficient food on the hoof for them. Lucky then that Chephzibah and the others preferred fishing for their dinners. Daggerfish, Yellowfin, and Swordfish were huge creatures themselves and were abundant along the coast. One of them was more than enough for a dragon’s meal.
Malik walked up to the huge bulk of his dragon and rubbed her muzzle. Chephzibah’s eyelids drooped and a rumble of contentment sounded from deep within her. The shadowy bulk of Boldizar was close by. His head lifted from the ground on a huge muscled neck to watch. Teirnon stopped to watch the scene and daringly reached up to Boldizar when his head came within reach. Boldizar allowed his touch, but it was a momentary thing. Dragon’s rarely tolerated anyone touching them but their riders or other dragons.
A dragon’s roar caused Boldizar to draw away and snake his head high to reply. Teirnon winced at Boldizar’s bellowed greeting to the returning scouts. Teirnon watched as three huge winged shadows glided in lowering circles toward him. They were far too high to make out the riders, but that changed quickly.
In a thunder of backstroking wings, they touched gently down on powerful hind legs. Wings folded and the dragons dropped lightly onto there front legs to walk the last few yards with powerful tails lashing side to side. Teirnon accepted the salutes from the dragon riders and waited for them to dismount. All three men were a match for Malik in clothing and colouring. They each wore age-darkened leathers with fur-lined gloves and hats with flaps to cover their ears. They had straw-coloured hair braided with bright many-coloured beads that meant something to them, but to anyone not born Camorshin simply looked outlandish. The fur of their hats and gloves would keep their ears and hands warm in temperatures that rivalled the worst winter storms.
The dragons moved off to find a place to rest while their riders gave their reports. Malik wandered over to listen. Saul, the leader of the scouts was his brother. Saul was the older of the two by a year, but he deferred to Malik as his leader because Chephzibah had precedence among the dragons.
“…the one called Methrym leads them,” Saul was saying. “He has split his force to attack Lushan from three directions. I do not know who commands the western group, but it is the smallest of the three by about a third. Before coming back, we watched a skirmish between your soldiers and a small raiding force—no more than a thousand Tanjuners on horseback.”
“Oh?” Teirnon said, his interest sharpening. He had received no word of it. “How did they fair against us?”
Saul smirked. “Badly. They are a brave people, these Tanjuners, but they do not know us. Our ways are strange to them. They outnumbered our men two to one and expected our force to turn tail and run. Of course, it did no such thing. They were very surprised when we held against their charge so easily. Their horses are no match for ours, and neither is their armour.”
“As I thought,” Teirnon mused. “Our own breeds are bigger and much stronger than theirs.” He wished he had more of them, but it would take time. More arrived daily by ship, but as big as they were, the ships could only transport so many horses at a time. He had made it his policy to mount his forward cavalry elements on horses from home while using the local beasts, those that Matriarch Talitha had supplied, for his cavalry reserve. “Their armour is simple boiled leather, not steel, and they are mounted on inferior animals. We have the advantage—for now at least. Given time they will learn better than to attack like that, but time is something I propose not to give them.”
“They fight well, but without discipline. They charged at our people like bandits. No regular lines or spacing.”
Teirnon nodded. “Did they see you?”
Saul shook his head. “We stayed high and let the dragons do the watching.”
Teirnon nodded in satisfaction. That was what he had asked Malik to order them to do. A dragon could see for leagues. It was a simple matter for them to stay high and tell their riders what they saw.
“I wonder what will happen when they see dragons for the first time,” Malik mused. “I have a feeling it will be interesting to watch.”
Saul and the other dragon riders grinned fiercely.
Teirnon snorted. “I doubt they will find it amusing.” He turned to regard the city of Lushan. It wasn’t what he would call a city; more like a town really, but then nothing he had yet seen compared to the cities of home. “How long before this Methrym arrives?”
“Three days,” Saul said confidently.
“Excellent. We will be ready to welcome him,” Teirnon said and began walking back to camp. “Are you coming, Malik?”
Malik slapped his brother on the shoulder and said something. Saul nodded and trotted away. “Coming, High Lord.”
Teirnon didn’t hear him, he was already deep into his planning and didn’t notice when Malik rejoined him.
* * *
Methrym’s column met its foe at a crossroads named Miller’s Crossing. The mill had long been abandoned when the two armies met to decide the future of Japura. The ground was unfavourable, but not dangerously so. It sloped gently up toward the enemy giving them a slight advantage, but the rise was very slight. The wind blew in Methrym’s favour, into his enemies’ faces, giving his bowmen an advantage over theirs. He had more cavalry; they had better armour and more infantry. It evened out.
“So cousin,” Methrym said to Soren. “Here we are.”
“They outnumber us,” Soren said uneasily. “Where the hell is Lorenz?”
“Where I told him to be I expect.”
I hope.
“I have a bad feeling, cousin. You didn’t see them stand our charge. I don’t like it that they were waiting here. I don’t like it at all.”
Methrym frowned. It was unlike Soren to be so nervous before battle. “Everything is going to plan.”
Soren stared at the enemy in silence.
* * *
“Well now,” Lorenz said ducking another arrow, a stray, and not aimed at him. “They have us pinned.”
“The plan is bollixed and no mistake,” Tyson said. “What do we do?”
“What can we do?” another voice broke in. “There’s no going forward, and if we don’t pull out, there will be no going back either.”
“We can’t go back,” Lorenz protested. “Methrym is expecting us to protect his right.”
“We can’t get to him. If we pull back and disengage, we might make it to him via another route.”
They had been stalled at the tree line for candlemarks. They had ridden unhindered through the night, but as dawn approached and they were getting ready to exit the trees, disaster had struck. They had ridden smack into a huge force that Lorenz had since come to believe was the enemy’s reserves. He had hastily pulled back after a short exchange that left all too many of his men dead.
Under the circumstances, pulling back was all he could do. There were too many to fight. He had no chance of breaking through to Methrym, and even if he could, who knew what other surprises lay between them.
“We go back,” Lorenz said reluctantly.
* * *
Nisim spun and ducked the blow aimed to take his head. He gutted his attacker and bulled into another man intent on killing Terriss from behind. A dagger across the throat solved
the problem.
“We were betrayed!” Terriss cried, as he fought for his life.
Nisim ducked another blow and punched the face. It went away. “Not Methrym’s doing!”
Terriss was too busy to answer. Captain Hollis had turned tail and run almost before the attack began. Even so, Nisim didn’t believe the man a traitor. He was simply a coward.
“We have to get out of here!”
“I wouldn’t mind,” Joz said, parrying a sword and attacking in his turn. “How?”
Nisim looked desperately around. “Hollis went into the trees.”
“A fat lot of good it did him,” Terriss growled.
That was true. Hollis and his men had been closely pursued. It was doubtful any still lived. “We might lose them in there.”
“And we might not,” Terriss said.
“Have you a better plan?”
“No.”
“All right then,” Nisim said, then bellowed, “fall back to the trees! Fall back!”
* * *
Dragons roared as they plummeted out of the clouds, diving upon Methrym’s army as it charged up the slope to attack the waiting Imperials. The moment they appeared, every horse not under an Imperial backside went mad with fear. The charge turned instantly into a boiling chaos of screaming and rearing horses, unhorsed men running fearfully back down slope, and the bellowed orders of frightened captains trying to restore some semblance of their earlier confidence. The dragons strafed the battlefield, diving at unbelievable speeds to rake men and beast alike with their claws. They rose and fell like demented crows, plucking men from their feet or saddles indiscriminately, but worse than even this was their breath. Fire blossomed everywhere at once. Again and again, they rained fire and destruction upon the Tanjung invaders, while the Imperial soldiers simply held their ground and watched, unmoved by pity or remorse. If such emotions moved them at all, it was not evident to Methrym.
“Retreat! Sound retreat!” Methrym screamed over the thunder of dragon wings. They had to be dragons, the mythical creatures spoken of in old stories. What else breathed fire and flew like birds? “Blow boy!”
Methrym turned to find the white-faced boy staring straight up at the sky, clutching his cornet fearfully. Methrym whipped around and raised an arm to shield his face as a huge black dragon aimed a blast of fire his way. The air turned to liquid fire, and a hot wind howled in to replace it. He couldn’t breath! His horse bucked, shrilling in fear. Methrym flew from her back like the stone from a shepherd boy’s sling.
He rolled to his knees to find his horse running away screaming in panic, its tail and mane on fire. His armour was hot to the touch, and the exposed skin of his face felt stretched tight. The smell of burned hair and flesh filled his nostrils, and he realised his messengers were the source. They lay all around him, dead. Beyond them, patches of grass still burned where more unmoving shapes lay. His reserve and their horses made up most of those blackened mounds. There was no sign of Robyn and his cornet. If the boy had any sense, he would be half way home to his father’s farm by now. Methrym drew his sword, and turned to face the battle, but it had moved on while he collected his wits.
The Imperials were on the move. Dragons still circled above them, but they made no further attacks. Methrym realised they were watching the battle as scouts were want to do, perhaps waiting for orders or some other sign they were needed. Methrym cursed his own overconfidence. Every man he commanded had been committed to this battle, and it was already lost. No question it was lost. It was every man for himself now, and his men had been quicker to realise it than he. They were already in full flight, streaming away in all directions. Most were making for the tree line; possibly hoping for Lorenz and his men’s aid, more probably hoping to hide themselves from the watching dragons. Methrym took one last look at the Imperials mopping up his men, then turned tail and ran.
* * *
Teirnon looked up from the letter he had been composing as Malik applied his boot to the backside of a boy wearing fire-blackened armour. He staggered into the tent and fell. Teirnon raised an eyebrow at the sight. The boy could be no more than ten summers old, yet the armour he wore was undoubtedly his. He wore it as if accustomed to its weight, and it fitted his slight frame well. No doubt it had been made especially.
“What have you there, Malik?”
Malik stooped to drag the boy up onto his knees. “Boldizar took him during the battle. He thought you might like him.”
“He did? Well, I thank him of course, but why would he think…?”
Malik grinned and offered what he held in his other hand. It was a shiny brass cornet. Teirnon took it thoughtfully, and placed it upon his desk noting the boy’s tear-streaked face pale still further. A quick lad, then. That was good. He had no liking for unnecessary cruelty, but sometimes it was necessary to force cooperation. Perhaps he could avoid that this time.
The boy kept his eyes focused upon the ground, but at Teirnon’s continued silence he glanced up quickly then down again when he found his captors watching. He started shaking.
“You fear me,” Teirnon said. “Do you not?”
The boy shook his head fiercely.
“Of course you do. It’s all right to be afraid, boy. Where you ere is in allowing me, your enemy, to see it. Courage is not the lack of fear; it’s the ability to control it and go on despite it. Tell me, who did you serve?”
The boy shook his head, stubbornly keeping his silence.
“Not answering me will have severe consequences, boy. You don’t know me, so I make allowances, but my patience isn’t infinite. Know this about me: I don’t like repeating myself.”
“That’s true,” Malik said. “I remember that time you gave those enemy scouts to the dragons because they wouldn’t talk. Hmmm, not that it mattered in the end. We already knew the answers.”
Teirnon nodded, noting the boy’s uncertain glance at Malik. “Yes. A bad business that. Dragons are messy eaters, boy, but I didn’t at all expect them to make their meal last so long. The screams were very distracting. It quite put me off my own dinner.”
The boy bit his lip in an effort to stifle is tears. Teirnon watched outwardly impassive as the boy cried. He let him cry, and then leaned forward to raise the boy’s chin. He stared hard into teary eyes, before smiling kindly.
“I won’t let the dragons hurt you if you answer my questions. Before you say no, think about what I ask. What harm can it do? Your army is defeated, your leaders dead. Surely anything I ask you now, can’t hurt them anymore.”
The boy nodded uncertainly.
“There you see; I am a reasonable man. Perhaps a place might be found for you among my men. When this current unpleasantness ends and Waiparisa—excuse me, you call this land Waipara don’t you?”
“Yes,” the boy croaked from a throat abused from breathing too much hot air and smoke. He scowled when he realised he had not kept his silence.
Teirnon smiled and poured a mug of water. The boy took it and gulped it down thirstily.
“Better?” Teirnon said taking back the mug. “When Waipara is finally brought under the Empress Marzina’s rule, the fighting will end and you can return home. All you need do to assure it happens is confirm the answers to my questions. I already know the answers, boy. I just need confirmation. Are you with me so far?”
The boy nodded warily.
“Good! That’s good. So, let’s get started shall we?”
* * *
Methrym watched the executions with dull and lifeless eyes. How could it all come down to this? He had been winning, winning curse it! He had bested Barthan, beaten him not just in authoring the old War Leader’s death, but also in his command of Barthan’s men. They had loved him for his daring and his victories; loved him more than they had ever loved the pompous Barthan and his flower arranging! What kind of stupid hobby was that for a fighting man?
Methrym stared at the pile of heads growing higher. The steady sound of the headsman’s axe lopping heads had long sinc
e faded in the other prisoner’s awareness, but not his. He watched the bodies cast onto the huge pyre with relief. Despite what he had told his men in the forest that day, he wasn’t at all sure the God didn’t need a pyre’s smoke to find their souls. He would soon learn if his lessons about that were correct when he knelt in judgement.
He glumly watched another head tossed on the pile.
Soren was in that pile. He had been one of the first executed. Lorenz wasn’t though, at least as far as he could tell he wasn’t, and neither were Terriss and Nisim. It didn’t mean their heads weren’t decorating another gruesome pile of carrion somewhere, but it pleased him to believe they had escaped. Knowing Lorenz, he would already be planning his revenge. Besides that, Vexin needed to be warned that Tindebrai had joined the game on the Japuran’s side of the board. How Vexin would react to that, Methrym did not know, but he had faith in his cousin. Vexin was the greatest Emperor House Malai had ever produced. Methrym was proud to call him cousin, prouder still to have served him. If only he could have foreseen the dragons…
“Up! Get up you stinking cowards!”
Methrym looked up to find one of the guards looming over him. He spat on the man’s boots, and grinned as his men laughed. Methrym struggled to his feet, the ropes that bound his hands made it difficult, but he managed it finally. With his example, Methrym’s men stood and allowed the guard to lead them to their executions.
“This is not the end. Remember that lads,” Methrym said. “We will see each other again in the Other World.”
Dragon Dawn Page 15
