The Black wing (d-2)

by Mary Kirchoff

  Maldeev shook away his preoccupation and whistled for Jahet. "Tell your dragons to refrain from flying and move on foot into the forest to the west. The rest of the wing will fol shy;low." Jahet nodded and backed away to do her highlord's bidding, pulling Khisanth along with a glance toward Lhode and Shadow at the back of the ranks.

  Turning to the other commanders, Maldeev continued. "In this battle, my greatest concern is to prevent any of the knights, their men, or their people from escaping. We will certainly have lost all chance for surprise by tomorrow morn shy;ing. To stop escapes tonight, I want detachments to set up overlooking the fortress and the town. Humans will watch while it's light, to be replaced by ogres and draconians dur shy;ing darkness."

  That settled, Maldeev lifted his pike and directed his horse to pick its way down the bluff to the west, following after the dragons.

  Tate lowered the spyglass from his eye. He knew the Black Wing would come to Lamesh Castle. The knight hadn't been surprised by the news from the sentry. He'd just hoped it wouldn't be so soon. It was too soon___The reinforcements

  Tate was expecting from Solamnia hadn't arrived yet. Soon they might not need to, Tate thought grimly, feeling an unusual defeatism. The rain wouldn't help matters, either.

  Standing on the southern battlements, the Knight of the Crown snapped the glass back up to his right eye. He wiped a raindrop from the cloudy lens. The view through it was not much closer than seeing with the naked eye. Tate used the glass because it had been Wolter's.

  He saw no dragons. He should be able to see the enormous black creatures, even without the spyglass. Yet, Tate could identify only officers, a vast number of humans and ogres, and then some other strange creatures for which Tate had no name. An attack didn't appear to be imminent, since the black army was bivouacking.

  Still, he would have little time to mount a defense. Tate slipped the brass cylinder into a loop on his belt and then turned to leave. He stopped short, not quite sure where to go first. Sir Wolter would have known. Tate rubbed his face wearily, glad his men were too preoccupied assembling arms and equipment to notice his indecision.

  Nothing had been the same for Tate since Sir Wolter Hed-ing, his sponsor and friend-his father, for all purposes- was slain in the ill-fated attack on Shalimsha. Lamesh Castle's lord knight seemed to have only two moods these past months: anger and shame. Tate had been so sure Kiri-Jolith approved of the plan. Wolter had advised against it. It was the only time Tate had ignored Sir Wolter's advice.

  That was the greatest part of his shame, which Tate would have admitted only to Wolter. Tate knew men died in battle. He'd witnessed the gruesome deaths of Sir Stippling's party. The knight had just never given thought to its happening specifically because of him. Not to Wolter, anyway. By virtue of his wisdom Wolter always seemed to rise above such earthly concerns. Wolter would have been telling stories at hearthside in Solamnia, if not for Tate.

  The young knight's anger always focused on the black dragon whose last strike at Tate had ended Wolter's life. Something about her had been hauntingly familiar. Her odd necklace had struck an uneasy chord in his memory that the knight was still unable to identify.

  Shaking away the unsettling reflection, the lord knight looked upon the new moat with a glimmer of satisfaction. Anticipating a counterattack, he'd had the foresight to dig the trench and fill it, despite the muttered protests of the workers. Tate had devoted a great percentage of his man shy;power to accomplishing it so quickly, but too soon it would prove its worth in a land-based attack. Unfortunately, it would do nothing to stop the dragons he was certain must be lying in wait somewhere. That he couldn't see them only made him more apprehensive about what they were plan shy;ning. He was only slightly mollified to remember that when the dragons entered the battle, he was at least prepared now to fight them on their own level. The knight made a mental note to feed his own winged creatures, which he'd been care shy;ful to keep out of sight of spies the Black Wing might have sent north.

  Tate leaned over the inner wall and yelled into the court shy;yard, "Albrecht, sound the alarm in the village. Take a hand shy;ful of men to gather the people into the safety of the castle. We have little enough room in the inner ward, so instruct them to bring only their children, the clothes on their backs, and perhaps weapons, if they're of use. Tell the gate guards to keep watch for smugglers." He gave a small motion with his head. "Quickly now." Nodding up at his superior, Albrecht hastened off toward the east gate, gathering a small trail of knights in his wake.

  Tate considered calling Albrecht back to order the torching of the village so its stores wouldn't benefit the enemy, but he decided against it. They would need every hand in the battle; burning their village, no matter how tactically sound, would earn the lord knight no supporters among the villagers. Bet shy;ter to let the enemy do that dirty work.

  Next, Tate jogged to each of the bastions, starting with those on the southeastern and southwestern corners, which faced the encamped army of the Black Wing. Tate instructed the sentries there to watch closely, first and foremost for signs of impending attack, secondly for dragons, and then for any parties departing from the enemy's main body. He told their counterparts in the northeast and northwest towers to alert him immediately if they sighted either dragons or the appearance of wooden mantelets near the eastern or northern gates to prevent escape.

  That reminded Tate he needed to get his own spies out quickly, before the enemy could seal them into the castle. Spotting Wallens coordinating the stockpiling of rocks and arrows on the south battlements, he put the knight in charge of selecting and dispersing agents to more accurately assess the enemy's strength and intent.

  Tate saw Abel the baker scurrying about, the flour on his apron turned to paste by the lightly falling rain. The stout man was bossing knights and youths alike in the filling of pots and jugs of water. The containers were then placed on the battle shy;ments to be dumped on enemy soldiers as they scaled the walls. The light rain was making it difficult to start fires to boil the pots of water. The blacksmith lent his bellows to the task, and before long flames stirred and stayed. Long, forked poles were distributed along the walls for toppling ladders. Bundles of arrows wrapped in oilskins to protect them against the rain were deposited behind the battlements. Archers checked their bowstrings, carefully packed inside their doublets or padded armor, to be sure they were dry. Crossbowmen shook beaded water off their heavily oiled weapons.

  Before long, the frightened villagers, grumbling about the rain, began to pile through the eastern gate, crowding the courtyard. Albrecht set them to work immediately preparing bandages, fetching and carrying supplies for the soldiers, and rounding up the livestock running loose in the compound.

  After everyone was fed a thin stew from the enormous pots that would too soon hold boiling water for the defense, Tate called an emergency meeting of his four-man council of knights. Since the great room was filled with displaced vil shy;lagers, Albrecht, Wallens, and Auston met with him in the light of a single taper in their barracks. Tate's batting felt wet and clammy against his skin.

  "You've all seen, or at least heard about, the mobile barri shy;cades beyond the gates," Tate began. "We are now sealed in, unless we choose to try fighting our way out.

  "It appears, however, that we are badly outnumbered. The enemy has a sizable army of humans, ogres, and some sort of creatures no one here can identify. Prudence demands we assume they have dragons, as well, although no one has seen them." Heads nodded quiet agreement around the table.

  "Considering the seriousness of the situation, I want to send an emissary out to talk to their commander."

  Agreement was replaced by surprise. "Surely you don't mean to discuss surrender?" asked Albrecht.

  "No," replied Tate. "But we have a huge number of women, children, and old men here in the fortress. We must at least try to arrange safe conduct for them away from the battle."

  Auston cleared his throat. "Sir, I would be honored to serve as message bearer. I
've had some diplomatic experi shy;ence, settling ethnic disputes with the barbarians in the Est-wilde region of Solamnia."

  Tate clapped the eager young knight on the shoulder. "You're just the man for the job, then, Auston."

  A short time later the knights were reassembled inside the south gate. Lanterns, spitting softly in the light rain, cast their dim light across the scene. Auston sat proudly, if somewhat nervously, on his horse. Tate shook the young knight's hand. "Come back swiftly and safely."

  Nodding, Auston touched his helmet in salute to Tate as he rode out the gate. Two guards hastily closed and barred it behind him.

  Rather than wait anxiously back in the barracks, the knights separated to double-check the castle's defenses. Tate went to the stables below the barracks and fed the griffons. The horses had been moved above ground to accommodate

  the five horseflesh-loving winged creatures he'd purchased at great expense from a trader.

  An hour later, there came a shout from the rampart. A ner shy;vous guard peered out and saw a white horse, returning alone in the pale moonlight. Tate ran from the stables up onto the wall to see what caused the commotion. He watched with the sentries and knights gathered there as the horse cantered back to the south gate. Guards flung back the heavy wooden doors and hustled the horse inside. Snorting, eyes wide and fearful, the white creature circled through the courtyard and the thronged people there, stopping before Tate, who'd has shy;tened down from the battlement. The courtyard grew strangely still, as if everyone inside was holding his breath.

  The apprehensive lord knight began to search the creature for a note or message of some kind concerning Auston's fate. The horse itself provided the answer. Its hairy lips ruffled, and a voice very like Tate's own said through the horse's mouth, "You can't act like ruffians and expect to be treated like ladies." Tate visibly paled.

  "What does it mean, Sir Tate?" Albrecht asked, noting the expression of understanding growing on his superior's face. "And what have they done with Auston?"

  "It means no deal," Tate said numbly. "Auston's dead."

  "The unprincipled bastards!" snarled the usually con shy;tained Wallens. "What'U we do now, Sir?"

  Tate tried to rub the weariness from his eyes. "See to your stations one last time tonight, then get some rest while you can," the lord knight said. "Tomorrow promises to be a long, hard day."

  Tate was already walking away from the dazed Albrecht and Wallens, his thoughts on a distant time. Three fingers traced the scars beneath the whiskers on his cheek. Now he knew why the dragon at Shalimsha had seemed so familiar. The witch-woman from the ambush . .. Tate didn't under shy;stand magic well enough to explain how it could be done, but he was certain the human fighter was now a vengeful, black dragon. It was obvious from the message that she hadn't for shy;gotten their encounter, either.

  A muscle twitched in Tate's wet cheek. The dragon's quest was nothing compared to the knight's: to avenge his friend, Wolter. She was a worthy adversary as a dragon, he mused, recalling the battle at Shalimsha.

  He found it all very curious how their paths had crossed and recrossed.

  He wasn't a man to believe in omens, but if ever he did …

  The Knight of the Crown felt a sudden, overwhelming desire to pray to his patron, Kiri-Jolith. He'd spent little time in temple since the battle at Shalimsha. Tate told himself he was too busy reorganizing troops and bolstering morale to devote one of every seven days to inactive prayer.

  The truth was, without the old knight to steel his resolve, Sir Tate's interest in rising to the Order of the Rose had waned. In a secret corner of his soul, Tate had even dared to wonder if Kiri-Jolith hadn't abandoned him first.

  As the lord knight picked his way through the sleeping bodies in the courtyard, he couldn't help thinking that many were taking their last mortal rest. The thought propelled Tate faster toward a long overdue talk with his god.

  Chapter 22

  Maldeev was feeling confident. The highlord sat apart from his four black dragons, who waited restlessly for daybreak on a rocky cliff west of Lamesh. He knew that when the sun crested the horizon to the east, Salah Khan would issue the order for the ground troops to advance on Lamesh's south wall. The sec shy;ond he saw the knights' attention devoted there, Maldeev would lead the dragons in an attack on the west wall. It was a plan the highlord was certain couldn't fail.

  The pace of the assault had gone from boring to breakneck in one long night. The draconians, under Horak's watchful eye, had chopped down trees that the ogres turned into makeshift bridges for fording the moat and ladders for climb shy;ing crenelated walls.

  Maldeev had flown to this vantage point with the dragons late in the night. Though the steady downpour was an uncomfortable nuisance for the highlord, it seemed to act like a mental balm for the black dragons. They'd dropped into sleep after foraging for food in the mountains farther west.

  Wound as tight as a spring, the highlord had been the first to awaken, though he wasted no time in rousing the others to draw a crude battle diagram in the dirt. The plan had changed little from the one drawn up at a war council of officers and dragons the day before the march north. Truly, the only alter shy;ation was to the role of the dragons, and that was as obvious and simple as the dirt in which Maldeev had drawn it.

  "Whoever built Lamesh obviously did not consider aerial attacks," the highlord said. "It must have been built during the time your kind was banished from Krynn."

  "Technically, we still are," Khisanth interjected mildly. "The Dark Queen's return to Krynn is the point of the war, isn't it?"

  "Yes, I guess so." Maldeev's eyebrows raised unpleasantly at being openly addressed by a dragon other than Jahet. Per shy;haps Khisanth had presumed too much from the highlord's willingness to let her respond to the knight's emissary the previous evening. Maldeev had had the messenger slain instantly by Jahet. The highlord had intended the riderless horse to be his answer to the request to let women, children, and old men go free. But Khisanth had insisted that she'd fought the leader of the knights and knew just what response would shake him. Maldeev had allowed it, seeing no harm.

  He stood, stretched, and looked again to the sky, which was starting to show signs of dawn between the swollen rain clouds overhead. "Prepare yourselves. It's nearly time."

  Atop Jahet, Maldeev was to lead the dragons. Volg and Horak would direct their ogre and draconian troops forward in the initial southern charge, so Lhode and Shadow would pick them up on the battlefield after the dragons joined the fray.

  Since Khisanth had no rider, she stood by, almost idly watching Maldeev pull on the last of his war attire, a pair of tight leather gauntlets that flared at the wrists. He pulled something from a small bag tied to his waist and held it to

  the light. It was a plain gold ring topped by a smooth, flat cir shy;cle of onyx. At length, Maldeev placed it over the gloved index finger of his right hand.

  "New ring, Maldeev?" Jahet asked idly as the dragon shrugged to adjust the ornate saddle he'd tossed up between her wing blades.

  "Yes," the dragon highlord said quickly, withdrawing the band almost self-consciously. "Andor insisted I take along a protective ring." He saw Jahet's interest stir. "He is my dark cleric, after all-if s his job to think of such things. I only took it to humor him. You know how I hate magic-didn't even want Andor near this battle." With a shrug, Maldeev wiggled the ring from his gloved finger.

  Jahet shook her head slowly. "You already know what a mistake I think his absence is. Wear the bloody thing, Mal shy;deev," she prompted. "What will it hurt? It just may come in handy." Maldeev jammed the black-and-gold ring over the gloved index finger. Jahet looked satisfied, though she won shy;dered at this new, acquiescent side of her soul mate.

  "Jahet," Maldeev called to his dragon, tipping his head to indicate that she should turn her ear to him. The highlord whispered briefly, and Jahef s face lit up.

  "I'll ask her," she said to the highlord. The ranking dragon turned to Khisanth. "Maldeev has s
uggested, and I concur, that you ride as our wing dragon." She looked intently at her friend. "This is offered to honor your solo value, Khisanth. If s not an order."

  The younger black dragon felt pride swell in her breast. "It would be my honor," she said. Maldeev nodded once and strode away to mentally prepare himself for battle.

  "Stay close to us, Khisanth," Jahet whispered to her sud shy;denly, with the highlord out of earshot. "I sense a reckless shy;ness in Maldeev I've never seen before, as if he believes he can't lose…."

  Khisanth nodded. She heard a distant noise and cocked a sensitive ear to the west. A trumpet. . . the knights had sounded the alarm.

  "Fly!" cried Maldeev. Jahet dropped her left shoulder to the ground. Using it as a step, the highlord bounded into the saddle and swung his broadsword over his head thrice. Jahet sprang from the ledge, covered the short distance to the ravine below the cliff, and arched into a dive, Khisanth in sync at her left side. Pulling up short just above the gurgling, waterfall-fed reservoir at the bottom of the ravine, Jahet pre shy;pared for ascent.

  Not even a feeding frenzy would have stirred Khisanth's senses as much as the thought of what they were about to do. She felt that old, familiar bloodlust in her veins. The dragon drew on that energy for speed, summoned every drop from the farthest reaches of her body to propel her skyward in stunning opposition to the waterfall pounding earthward.

  Khisanth crested the cliff face beside Jahet. One hundred knights stood on the walkways between the double crene shy;lated walls, bows in their hands. They were poised in profile to the dragons as they fired arrows down upon the attackers to the south. Khisanth opened her jaws to loose a primal scream that split the humid morning air. The knights spun around in unison at the nerve-shattering shrieks of four bloodthirsty dragons. Most froze, bows dropping uselessly from many a hand at the sight. How she loved the look of panic she caused in the eyes of men! She smirked at the sight of the humans in their knightly finery, trembling in her shadow.