by Chris Bunch
The dragon bubbled a greeting.
Khiri Carstares was waiting.
"I just wanted to say I love you."
Hal, mind already in the air, thinking about the meeting over a certain clearing, had to force himself to smile, give her a hug.
"I love you back," he said. He still wasn't sure if he did, but if he didn't come back…
He forgot that possibility, clambered into Storm's saddle, tapped the dragon's neck with his reins.
It snorted, ran forward, and leapt into the air, somehow sensing this day was different.
Hal let Storm climb until he was about 700 feet above the trees, the dark mass just beginning to lighten. He needed no compass or map to navigate to the Comtal, and up the river toward the clearing.
Just above him, about a thousand feet above the ground, was the usual scattered predawn cloud cover.
Very good.
Darkness became gray, and Hal knew, above the clouds, the sun could be clearly seen.
It was light enough to make out the clearing. Flying in lazy circles, about a hundred feet below him, a mile distant, was a single black dragon.
Hal checked his crossbow, eased a bolt into the trough.
"Let's go kill him," Hal said, snapping his reins.
Storm had already seen the dragon and, shrilling a challenge of his own, was flying toward it.
The dragon climbed to meet Hal, trying with its talons for Storm's head.
Hal jinked his dragon to one side, couldn't find a clear shot at its rider. But he saw Yasin's banner clearly.
He pulled Storm up as the black dipped a wing, turned hard, came back at him.
An arrow whispered past him, a foot or two distant.
Hal held his fire, still not happy with his shot. The two dragons sped past each other, talons reaching for a grip, finding none. Yasin's black flailed at Hal, missed him, and Hal fired a bolt into the monster's tail.
It thrashed, almost caught him, then the two were clear, climbing toward the clouds for an advantage.
The black shrieked three times, and, as Yasin turned back toward the attack, five black dragons dove down at their brother's signal.
Yasin hadn't played fair. Hal grinned tightly, did the unexpected, and instead of diving for the ground, came in again on Yasin. He fired at the man, cursed as his bolt missed.
Then he turned for the ground, diving toward the edges of the clearing, looking back as if he were panicked as the six blacks came after him.
None of the Roche saw the nine Deraine dragons plummet down toward them, from behind, from where they'd been flying, at Hal's orders, just above the clouds.
Hal had set a double trap, one for Yasin, one for the spy.
If there was a spy, Hal assumed Yasin had been told, somehow, about Hal's plans, which is why he'd changed them at the last minute, ordering his dragon flight to fly high above the meadow, and attack anything they saw below them.
Hal pulled Storm up, into a wingover, was rushing headlong at the Roche dragons. An arrow went above him, and he aimed carefully, shot one of the Roche fliers in the chest at point blank range. The Roche slumped, and the dragon banked, into Storm's talons. The beast howled, tried to dive away, but Storm's tail caught him, smashed his neck.
Then the Roche saw their pursuers, just as the Deraine monsters were on them. There was a swirl of fighting, and Hal heard shouts from men, screeches from dragons, and two black dragons went plummeting toward the meadow.
A trumpet blared, and the three surviving dragons dove toward the ground, intending to escape by flying at treetop level.
Well-trained, as Hal had assumed, they went low, very low.
Lord Cantabri's two companies of archers came out of their hiding along the fringes of the meadow, and arrows sheeted up toward the Roche.
They pincushioned the rear beast, and he squealed, lay over, and smashed into the ground, bouncing to stillness.
Two, Hal thought, and then, past him, came Sir Nanpean Tregony, having a bit of height, enough to close on the forward black. He was almost atop the beast, and Hal wondered if Tregony's dragon would tear the flier from his mount.
But Tregony was leaning out, aiming, and his crossbow bolt took the Roche in the back of the neck. He contorted, and fell away.
Hal was closing on the last dragon, Yasin's, but the black had speed on him, and slowly pulled away from him.
Hal broke off the fight, banking up and around, trumpet blasting the signal to return to base.
"An' you're a cagey, cagey bastard," Farren Mariah said admiringly. "Remind me to never wager with you, least not unless we're usin' my cards."
"And how did you know they'd be waiting for us in the clouds?" Gart asked.
"I pray regularly," Hal said piously, and Sir Loren snorted in laughter.
Hal, surrounded by congratulating members of his flight, leaning against Storm, who was almost purring in content, pulled Lady Khiri to him.
"I love you," he whispered, leaning back against Storm, and this time he meant it.
He smiled, as if well content with the day. In some ways, he was. He'd lived.
More importantly, he'd confirmed the presence of a spy in the formation.
But he still didn't know who he was. And Ky Bayle Yasin still lived.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Reinforcements started coming in thick and fast, as did supplies. Hal's flight came to full strength, and, won-drously, was given two extra dragons.
Kailas knew the attack was very near.
As did the enemy.
Ky Yasin's black dragons, also reinforced, were withdrawn from raiding along the River Comtal, and now flew close cover over the city of Aude.
Three other dragon flights, including Sir Lu Miletus', Hal's first combat unit, were stripped away from the Third and Fourth Armies. Hal was delighted to see that his former tent-mate, Sir Aimard Quesney, was still alive, and, he discovered in the few minutes they had to chat, as wryly cynical as ever.
But there was little time for reminiscing. Hal spent almost as much time in conference at Command Headquarters as he did with the Eleventh.
He was pleased to see Lady Khiri, who he'd convinced to stay with Sir Thom, was the absolute darling of the staff officers. It kept her from worrying about him, he hoped, and, not being the jealous sort, he didn't worry about any of these popinjays being invited to share her bed.
He was not as pleased to see just how luxurious a life these back of the line slackers had carved for themselves, from the best rations, which should, by rights, have gone to the front lines, to uniforms and living equipment.
Cantabri told him to forget his anger. If these staff sorts spent their time trying to connive themselves a fine case of Sagene wine or whatever, instead of their job, perhaps the line units might not be as subject to their killing whims.
But Hal still wanted to put all of them in a long line, armed with their favorite pens and foolscap, and send them against the walls of Aude.
The Eleventh was chosen for special duties—to escort the army's magicians wherever they wanted to go to cast their spells on the day of battle.
Hal would rather have flown against Yasin, but Cantabri told him this was far more important.
"We'll not hit the Roche with one or two great spells," he said. "But little ones, here and there. If they pry open a crack, you'll be responsible for bringing in more wizards to reinforce the first spells.
"Also, since magicians don't seem to have much awareness of their own mortality, you'll be responsible for keeping them alive.
"Not that you can't take advantage of any targets of opportunity, once your two primary duties are in hand."
"Wonderful," Hal muttered.
His mood wasn't improved when Limingo told him he still hadn't had the time to pluck whatever secrets the dagger that murdered Serjeant Te held, but he would do it immediately. Or within the day… or perhaps tomorrow.
Hal took no chances that the spy within his flight might be able to give away th
eir duties, and how much of the attack would be dependent on magic.
He grounded the flight, and had their base surrounded by troops, who were ordered to let no one except Kailas in or out.
His fliers seethed, not knowing why they were being held hostage, and, for most of them, that they were going to be nothing but a ferry service during the great battle.
Hal decided a little anger would be good for them when they were finally permitted to fly against the Roche.
Then, one day, the siege engines went into constant action day and night, smashing stone ball after stone ball into Aude's outer and inner walls, targets carefully chosen for structural weakness.
Troops moved out of their encampments, into attack positions.
The Roche were at full alert, but they didn't seem to know, any more than Hal or anyone outside the high command, just where the attack was going to be mounted.
For once, the flapping jaws of the army didn't have anything to chew on.
For the moment.
Limingo arrived at the base with four acolytes, a cheery face, and interesting news for Hal.
"I was going to put you off yet again," he said. "Then I realized if this was that important for you to consult me, it might have a great effect on the performance of your flight, which might mean on this battle.
"Which, incidentally, will begin tomorrow afternoon. Everyone fights at dawn, to give them the benefit of the day.
"Which is one reason Lord Egibi chose the time he did.
"Also, this fight is expected to last over several days, and probably won't accomplish much on the first day, beyond, hopefully, putting our spells in place and clearing the walls of Roche archers.
"There'll be a courier arrive sometime today with your orders, but I thought you might like a bit of an advance warning.
"I can give you specifics on what I'll need. I want you, and four of your fliers, to take myself and my staff to that knoll we visited once before.
"At that time, I'll cast my own spell. You might have guessed it would have something to do with those gates on the main entrance.
"They're protected by Roche magic, but I'm betting they haven't thought of everything. Gates require hinges, and hinges, even huge ones such as we saw, corrode.
"Magic isn't all that great in building from nothing, but one of its great strengths is to destroy. To corrode.
"We shall see what my magic can do against them. If those hinges can be smashed, the gates can be toppled.
"And if the gates are toppled…"
Limingo smiled tightly.
"I do wish that there was a way we could get closer. The power of sorcery isn't improved by distance.
"But I'm hardly fool enough to try to thaumaturge from either the back of your dragon or, worse, from the front ranks amid an arrowstorm."
Hal let the man run on, realizing the magician was brave, but no one, except probably Lord Cantabri, could face the morrow's slaughter equably.
Limingo caught himself.
"Very well," he said. "Now for your business. Are we in a place where no one can overhear us?"
"We are," Hal said. He'd had the spy-ear in his quarters blocked after Te's murder.
Limingo nodded to his acolyte, who handed him a pouch. Inside was the flier's dagger that had killed Te.
"I can't give you everything," he said. "Magic doesn't generally work that way.
"However, I can suggest that the proper owner of this knife would be large and thick, a man, yes definitely a man, who'd look like a drover or a blacksmith. I don't think, though, that he was the one who committed the murder.
"There's a layer of blood and fog between him and that death. That's a very imprecise way of putting what my spells showed, but I can't find better words.
"This other person, and I cannot give you anything about him, would have been the killer.
"I'm sorry, but that's all I can divine. Possibly, with more time, and thought, coming up with greater spells, I might be able to divine a bit more for you.
"But not much."
"Thank you," Hal said. "I'll think on what you've said. It might be enough. Meantime, we'd best be preparing ourselves for battle."
All that day, and night, as the Eleventh readied itself for battle, making sure every bit of leather harness was oiled and soft, that the crossbow trays were fully loaded, that armorers had spare bowstrings and prods, Hal pondered the dagger, and Limingo's words.
He sat, staring at it, late, the sounds of dragons wailing in their sleep, aware of change and not happy with it, and the sounds of the smiths' wheels, sharpening already needle-like bolts, swords and knives.
He finally pulled himself away, checked his own gear and harness.
There were still lights about the former village, handlers making sure there was nothing amiss with the sleeping dragons, cooks preparing cold rations for the morrow, and, in the hut he'd assigned to Limingo, the muttering of voices and the occasional sharp reek of herbs being burnt.
His last visit was to Storm, who snored contentedly, head occasionally curling out, fangs yawning, as he destroyed another enemy in his sleep.
"When this is over," Hal said, "I promise you I'll find you the highest crag for your own, a herd of sheep and a cow worthy of your attentions."
Storm snorted, sighed.
* * *
Just after dawn, Hal was roused by Limingo, who wanted a flight close to Aude. "To get a feel for my castings," he explained.
The roads around Aude were alive with troops, making last minute moves. Heavy cavalry moved ponderously forward, pioneers bustled around the huge siege engines, which were never still, light cavalry trotted across the bridges toward the city, and infantrymen crept closer, keeping well under cover.
"Very good," Limingo shouted to Hal. "Now, all we have to do is wait."
Hal was making sure all was in order, yet without chivvying his fliers into despair, after the noon meal, on the dragon line as the monsters were being led out, saddled and ready, when it came to him.
He felt like a dunce for not being able to figure things out without magic.
He thought of letting matters wait until after the battle, decided he couldn't. He might have been able to keep the spy sequestered for a time, but once the fighting started, that would be impossible.
"I want to see Vad Feccia," he told Gart. "And Sir Nanpean Tregony.
"Have four men standing by, armed, for my orders."
Vad Feccia's eyes darted about the room as he entered. He visibly twitched when he saw the dagger, the only thing on Kailas' table.
Sir Nanpean Tregony looked appropriately bored and upper class.
"I hope this won't take too long, sir," he said, the usual subtle emphasis on his last word. "We're to be aloft in minutes."
"No," Hal said. "Not long at all. Vad Feccia, I formally accuse you, with Sir Nanpean Tregony as my witness, of the following crimes: Theft of war supplies; murder; spying for the enemy in time of war; and high treason.
"The last three are hanging offenses.
"You will be taken into custody by men I have waiting, and closely confined until you are brought before a court martial.
"I have used certain means to determine this dagger was originally issued to you, and falsely claimed to have been lost, after you murdered Serjeant Te for apprehending you in your crimes. There can be no doubt what the penalty—"
"No!" Feccia shouted. "Not me!"
"Be silent, you," Sir Nanpean said. "Stand up like a man for once in your monstrous life."
Feccia whirled.
"Stand up? And be hanged? No! Not ever! Mayhap I'm a thief… I'll admit to that, wanting my little delights, and never minding having a bit of cash about.
"But murder… Never. Nor treason.
"You're the spy, Tregony.
"And the damned traitor.
"You were the one who had me find out where Te kept his files, his maps. And you were the one who borrowed my dagger when you said there was a lock that needed pr
ying.
"No, you son of a bitch! I'll not hang for your crimes!"
"Enough, Feccia," Hal said coldly. "Those words can wait for the trial.
"However, you, Sir Nanpean Tregony, now stand accused of most serious crimes."
"Lies by this thieving bastard," Tregony said loftily. But his eyes didn't meet Hal's.
"What was it?" Hal asked. "What did they buy you with? Was it gold? Or favors? Or just a chance to get out of that wretched prison camp? If you ever were in one at all, and rather turned traitor the instant you fell into their hands? Or maybe you were a Roche agent, right from the beginning. Certainly that'd hardly surprise me, knowing you for what you are, what you were as a boy.
"And how did you report, after we moved forward, and you weren't able to visit your contact?"
"I said lies, and lies they are!"
"Feccia surely can lie," Hal agreed. "But magic, especially magic of the highest order, cannot.
"And magic is what made me summon you and Feccia, in the hopes he'd behave as he did."
Tregony shook his head sadly, as if he felt sorry for Hal's foolishness, and then he moved.
His hand swept up the dagger on the table, buried it in Feccia's stomach. Feccia screamed, clutched himself, as Tregony dove into Hal, knocked him, breathless, to the floor.
Tregony rolled to his feet, and ran out the door.
Hal staggered up, gasping for breath. He took no notice of the dying Feccia, but went after Tregony.
The man was down the sanctuary steps, running for his dragon.
"Stop him! Shoot him down!" Hal gasped.
The four soldiers he'd ordered to stand by did no more than gape, utterly lost.
Hal swore, stumbled down the steps, his wind coming back, as Tregony reached his dragon, leapt up into its saddle, and shouted for it to move, move, dammit.
Hal thought of shouting for archers, but hadn't the breath, and ran toward Storm, pulling himself up, as his hands found the reins, and slapped the dragon into motion.
Tregony's dragon was at full gallop, and then in the air, as Storm, startled, began moving.
Then they were both airborne, climbing.
Tregony headed for Aude, kicking his dragon to full speed.
Hal called to Storm, words of encouragement, orders, and his dragon closed on Tregony.
