Dragon's Rise

by Lou Hoffmann

  Maizie, trotting alongside Lucky mostly, occasionally tearing up and down the column as if she needed to herd the soldiers, was the object of much happier attention from children and adults alike. Lucky had sometimes wondered if she got lonely for other dogs, since pets were so uncommon in the Sunlands, but he was sure she was happy to be the only dog around at the moment. She got to keep all the treats and pets for herself. Even though Lucky wished he could make her stay behind—he’d tried and failed—her antics gave him something to smile about at a less than happy time.

  Lucky rode close to Rio for a sense of security, but he watched Han and Thurlock. At one point they exchanged a look Lucky couldn’t fathom, and from time to time he saw Thurlock cringe, or Han wipe some emotion off his face. But all the way through as they passed the sober-faced throngs by the road, they both looked haunted. They each sat tall in the saddle, but Lucky imagined they wanted to slump with weary sadness. Oddly, it reminded him of Thurlock’s cold reception in Nedhra City; this was different but the same. The people at the Hold and nearby, in general, bore no animosity toward Han and Thurlock; they saw them as heroes. Their reserved farewell was a matter of gravity, but still they held Thurlock and Han apart from their daily lives. And for now at least, when these two rode by, the people seemed to truly see the darkness on the horizon.

  IT’S IMPOSSIBLE to move with speed a force of thousands on foot and horseback and accompanied by wagons, even when haste is a prime consideration and nothing goes significantly wrong. It took the gathered army nearly eight hours under hot sun to travel fifteen miles to Blackstone Junction and fall into ranks in the wide, flat valley that stretched below on the east side of Main South Road.

  It seemed an incredible sight. Row on row of soldiers, variously armed and uniformed, but all united, sitting their horses, or standing in quiet expectation. They thought they knew what was coming, Lucky guessed, but he knew for sure he didn’t.

  Thurlock pronounced a series of strange words, one after the other with a kind of punctuation between each, and soon a dome formed over the entire valley. Although it did cast shade to cool the beating rays of the sun, a faint echoing hum that hadn’t been there before suggested it served another purpose. Han rode a distance farther along the raised roadbed alone, and turned Simarrohn so that he faced the waiting troops.

  Close at Lucky’s side, Thurlock said, “Watch your uncle, Luccan. You’re about to get a master lesson in how to lead from the heart.”

  When Han spoke, he made no effort to raise his voice, but his words rolled out through the ranks to reach the ear of every listener—thanks, apparently, to Thurlock’s dome.

  “The last time I addressed an army, it was a small one. We had gathered at the Fallows border, and I was leaving them in the capable hands of my second. The mission they were assigned to accomplish should have been more or less routine, but something was far more wrong than anyone suspected. The darkness we saw only glimpses of then has surfaced elsewhere, and it gains strength, and if we do not stop it, we of the Sunlands, we of Ethra, will suffer a loss beyond our imagining.

  “Our enemy is grim, and heartless, and fell, but we can prevail, will prevail. It is written so plainly in your faces that you hold victory high in your heart. And the victory that you seek, that you will strive for, fight for, is a victory of love. Love for your families, friends, neighbors. Love for the Sunlands, our home, where we stumble through our lives together and somehow manage to hold on to justice, equity, kindness. Love for Ethra, this sweet, bright world from which our lives all flow.”

  Han paused for breath, but he made no effort to stop the tears that rolled freely over his cheeks.

  “We thousands fight as one family. I loathe the truth that some of you, no matter that you fight bravely—because you fight bravely—some of you will not make the ride home in triumph. I will fight with you, beside you, and I’m as mortal as any. Life is never assured, but in war, in pitched battle, some measure of death is certain. How I wish it wasn’t so. But since it is the plain truth, I will take this opportunity now when we are all together to say thank you.

  “Thank you for answering the call. Thank you, each and every one.”

  Han waited a long moment. Then he took a deep breath and continued, his voice gaining strength, his tone urgent.

  “Now, let us remember the sweet and honorable victory that, as one, we hold as our goal.” He thumped his chest with his right fist and held it aloft. “Raise it from your hearts and hold it high. Let it be the banner for which you fight, toward which you strive, to which you fly.” Quieting, he dropped his fist and swept his gaze from one end of the field to the other. “Farewell,” he said. “Go with the blessings of Ethra and Behlishan and every good god. And, my brothers and sisters, I will see you on the other side.”

  Han immediately turned Sim and came at a canter back toward where Lucky and the others waited. Silence filled the valley for a moment; then the throng of soldiers erupted in battle cries and cheers. In the midst of the cacophony, Han gripped the strap of his dragon-hide shield in his left hand, said, “Stay in formation behind me,” to Lucky and the others, and turned to Thurlock on his right.

  “Ready when you are, sir.”

  Sim and Sherah broke from a standstill to a dead run within three strides, their pace perfectly matched at every step. K’ormahk had no trouble keeping up and Hestiah held her own, but some of the others straggled. Maizie shot ahead and then fell back, but Lucky trusted she’d catch up, and besides he had no time to worry over it, because he was soon lost in wonder.

  Because Thurlock and Han made magic—glorious magic, such as Lucky had never seen before.

  Thurlock’s staff spouted a fountain of golden flame, directed precisely to hit Han’s shield just above where his hand held the strap. The magic burst out the other side of the shield in rainbow sprays of sparks and streamers, spreading far and wide and raining down over the gathered army, settling through them like a blanket of light, a visible blessing from Thurlock’s favorite god.

  Lucky felt it, and he knew everyone else received the same gift. The light reached all the dark places inside him, and though it didn’t root them out, it contained them. He didn’t feel less tired, he had no rush like adrenaline, and he didn’t feel any stronger. Yet he knew that in some way that would matter in the battle to come, the magic had given him exactly that—strength to hold against the dark.

  WHEN THEY’D passed all the army by and left the valley behind, Thurlock’s staff went dark, and Han lowered his shield, resting his hand on his thigh. They slowed slightly as they continued along the wide, well-traveled Main South Road, just enough to let the slower horses in their group close the gap that had opened between them.

  No one explained the need for speed, and just when Lucky was about to shoot the question to Han mentally, he was distracted by Han and Thurlock making a sudden turn up a road Lucky had no idea even existed until he was on it. He was grateful for K’ormahk, because if it had been up to him, he’d have missed the turn altogether. The new road took off at about a sixty-degree angle from Main South. It continued fairly straight, but it narrowed quickly and ran steeply uphill, which slowed the leaders down enough to keep everyone together as they entered a forest of pines.

  When they’d almost reached the top of the rise, Han raised his hand for a halt. He said “dismount” so quietly Lucky—who was right behind him—almost didn’t hear it, yet the captain another five feet back repeated it, and the sergeant beside him gave the order loud enough for the tail to hear. They picketed the horses in an open glade where green grass and wildflowers grew next to a tumbling brook, and then the whole group started to scramble a couple dozen feet up a rocky slope. Lucky began the climb, but stopped when he saw Maizie dart off to the other side of the glade.

  “Maizie!” he called.

  She stopped and looked at him, wagged her tail, and then continued on her way.

  Han’s thought came through. “She’ll be fine, Luccan. Climbing this way woul
d be hard for her. She’s gone to find another path.”

  “I wish I’d made her stay home.”

  “You tried. You’ll have to let her find her way, Luccan. Now and at the battle.”

  Lucky couldn’t see Maizie anymore—she’d disappeared into the brush. He glanced at Han, who was up ahead on the path, and then resumed his own climb. “Do you think she understands where we’re going?”

  “I know she does. She loves you. She wants to help if she can.”

  At the top of the climb, a wide level ledge wrapped three quarters around the gigantic boulders that formed the hill’s summit. Maizie trotted up from the far side of the ledge almost at the same time Lucky set foot on the level ground.

  By Han’s orders, camp was set up for the night around the back of the boulders, where it would be mostly hidden from any eyes, and no fire permitted except a single magical one—set by Mayli—that had no smoke and burned in camouflage colors. But when Han and Thurlock went over to the western edge of the ledge, he called Lucky and Rio to accompany them. That vantage provided a view of the valley at Blackstone Junction, where they’d stopped for Han’s inspiring address. Several miles of Main South Road were also visible from the junction to well past the cutoff they’d taken.

  Lucky peered intently at the sight for some seconds, and then stepped back, bewildered. He turned to his left and met Rio’s eyes, and Rio shrugged, obviously just as perplexed. Han stood to Lucky’s right, calm and not looking confused at all.

  “Uh, Uncle Han. I’m down there.” He pointed. “With you. And Maizie too, and Thurlock. Rio… and everybody else who’s up here with us. We’re all down there, too.”

  “Yes! It’s perfect, isn’t it?”

  “How?”

  “Thurlock’s done it. He may not be able to lie, but he’s damn good at deceiving the enemy.”

  “Oh. How…. What are they…? Lucky let the question trail off, not sure he could finish it intelligently.

  “Well, ‘they’….” Han paused and made a wry face. “You know, I wish I knew more specifically who ‘they’ are. I hate thinking of the enemy as nameless. It makes it easy to forget they’re people, with lives and everyday problems just like the rest of us.”

  “But maybe not. I mean, the Terrathians. I know they’re people, yeah, but it’s like they sold off their souls to become these super-brains. Or at least that’s what it felt like to me when I was… involved, I guess, with the small one, the Echo. She was powerless. The other one wasn’t her mate, you know. It was the other half of her. If that makes any sense.”

  “That sounds pretty strange, Luccan. True, though. But it’s not just them we’re fighting, right? We have some… let’s call ’em rebel Ethrans, for lack of a better term, and they’re importing Earthborns—mercenaries more than likely, just like the Shilloah. Fighting is their job, and while they might do better to be a bit more choosy whom they fight for, it doesn’t make them evil humans.”

  Lucky chewed his lip for a moment. He knew Han was right, but he wasn’t sure it made it any easier to go into a battle. It was hard enough when he thought about the enemy as “other.” If he had to think of them as people just like him… how could he do it? Still, he knew it had to be done. “Okay,” he finally said, resolute. “Yeah. But… can we get back to what you said… deceiving the enemy?”

  “Yes! I think it will serve you well, later when you’re leading the country, to understand strategy, so I’ll explain. In wartime, deception is a slick tool. Consider: There we are, right, traveling with the main army, which is heading straight for the field base on the border. They—the enemy—have been trying to deceive us, letting it be known they’re preparing for battle at the Hand, trying to keep our eyes turned that way. They know we can’t move a huge army that deep into the Fallows with any speed at all, but they think Thurlock and maybe other wizardly types will use magic and meet them there to harry them until our main forces arrive. Thanks to your dreams and visions and some solid intelligence, we’re letting them know they have us thoroughly fooled, and by doing that we’re going to fool them.”

  Rio said, “What?”

  Han laughed. “It’s simple. We’re doing a better job of deceiving them than they did of deceiving us. That will surprise them, and surprise goes a long way toward winning any battle.”

  Lucky narrowed his eyes, and though he didn’t ask his uncle if he’d lost his mind, he did give him a look that said exactly that. What he did ask out loud was “So… where exactly are they going—the army down there? And also, did we lose some people? Because that army doesn’t look as big as when they were standing still back there.”

  “You’re going with Thurlock to the Giant’s Hand. I’m going where those people are going—to the field base at the border—but I’m going to get there with the people who aren’t with that army anymore. It’s like a double blind.”

  “You…. You’re leaving?”

  Han nodded. “It’s all right, lad.”

  Luccan didn’t feel like it was all right at all. “When?”

  Thurlock then stepped up with a beautifully decorated wineskin in hand. “Right after the parting cup. Rio, Zhevi, you’ll join us?”

  AFTER HAN left, Luccan felt as vulnerable and clueless as a mole above ground at noon. It made little sense, really, because he hadn’t really been “in the know” about the battle to come when Han was with him. Now, though, he felt like he ought to know, and wondered why he hadn’t asked before for more information about the plan, and what role he was supposed to play in getting it done. Shahna’s Cup had been a quick gulp and Thurlock’s now familiar “Here’s to a good end.” Lucky hadn’t had a chance to form questions, much less ask them.

  Han had spared a comforting but too-quick hug for Lucky and a generous scratch for Maizie, and then left with Zhevi and two spare mounts immediately afterward, tossing Lucky a line of generic reassurance.

  “It’s going to be all right, Luccan.”

  The night seemed short, and it passed like winter molasses on the one hand, but far too quickly on the other. Cold dinner, hot tea, sleep, watch, sleep. Long before dawn, a sergeant named Rhitter moved through the camp to wake the sleepers, his whispers somehow coming across with the impact of shouts. Lucky dressed, got his breakfast of tea, coarse bread, and dried fish, then helped obliterate all traces of the camp. Thurlock’s impatient order to mount up came the moment the task was done. Lucky swung up onto K’ormahk’s back and looked over his left shoulder to where Rio sat waiting while Hestiah stamped her hooves, apparently annoyed at the early hour.

  Rio said, “Lucky.”

  At first Lucky thought Rio was going to say more, but nothing else came, and Rio looked even more overwhelmed than Lucky felt. He tried to offer Rio the kind of assurance Han had offered him.

  “Rio, it’s gonna be okay. We’ll be together. We’ll be safe.”

  It might have helped Rio feel better, but Thurlock interjected. “Sorry, but no. Luccan, you’ll need to come with me while Rio stays with the main group. K’ormahk and Sherah can move faster than the other horses by a good margin, and it’s important for me to get where we’re going as fast as possible. I can’t, of course, leave you behind.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight: Where Our Battle Lies

  THE SWIFT ride took Lucky and Thurlock quickly over wide-open grasslands, then through a high rocky pass and down into a series of canyons that led them parallel to a small creek. It never became much hardier than a rivulet and had no name that Thurlock knew, but it persisted for many miles, running for a time parallel to the East March-Sunlands border. The thick woods, rough terrain, and narrow defiles they traversed along the way kept them hidden, Thurlock explained, from any roving eye that might be bound to the enemy.

  With that geography, the route should have been difficult. In truth Thurlock and Lucky sailed along like magic, and Maizie seemed to have little trouble. Even though K’ormahk’s hooves pounded the ground and they kept to Sherah’s best pace, it felt like they all flew, a
nd the miles disappeared beneath them faster than should have been possible. The wind they created lifted Lucky’s hair and brushed away road dust and weariness alike.

  I love magic, he thought, and then after reflecting on that for a moment, added, which is odd.

  Their goal was to get situated high in the crags surrounding the valley that ringed the Giant’s Hand without the enemy knowing and before they expected anyone to be there. Thurlock needed a defensible place to make an offensive stand, and Han, who knew the Fallows better than any other Sunlandian, had told him where to go and how to get there. They turned west from the path they’d been following where a wide streambed, its waters now thin and nearly dry from summer heat, cut a path between two of the eroding sandstone bluffs still protecting the Fallows like a barrier reef.

  The dry edges of the streambed climbed swiftly, and the wind sluiced through carrying a sound Lucky imagined as a memory of the roar the stream must make when it ran full force with spring melt. He was glad to ride behind Thurlock, the wizard’s tall form and broad shoulders protecting his face from flying pebbles and sticks. Still, the horses stayed strong and sure-footed, and Maizie kept up easily, and before long they reached a sandy oasis, quiet and level and dancing with sunlight filtering through birch-like trees with shivering silver leaves.

  At the back of the grove, where the hard rock of the Fallows proper met the sandstone hills, a ledge of marbled metamorphic stone about forty feet wide and equally long hung over the cove, and tall grasses had grown up in its protection.