The Doom Brigade

by Don Perrin

The archer retrieved his arrows, cleaned them off, and put them back in his sheaf. Two of the knights tied the dwarves’ hands behind their backs.

  “Move along now.”

  The leader shoved Pestle down the road. Mortar stumbled along behind his brother. The rest of the knights followed.

  “All in all,” Pestle said, his head throbbing from the blow, “I would have rather have had tea with the kender.”

  Mortar had to think about this a moment but, after looking at the grim, stern, and pitiless faces of the knights, the dwarf was forced, miserably, to agree.

  Chapter Nineteen

  By the time the sun rose in the morning, the draconians had dug a defensive ditch around the perimeter of their camp, constructing bunkers at each corner. The entrance was guarded by two more bunkers. Inside, the tents were arranged in neat rows, according to squadron. The large tent in the middle was the command tent, where Kang slept.

  He awoke to the smell of roasted meat. The march had given him a voracious appetite. Last night, he had foregone dinner, spent some quiet time in communing with his Queen. She had, as was customary, awarded him his magic, though she had seemed a bit distracted. Probably due to the war effort. He donned his leather harness, but left the armor behind. Strapping on his sword, he went outside.

  Slith stood by the fire pit, gnawing on a half-eaten bone. When he saw Kang approach, the Sivak gave the cook a nudge.

  “Hurry up there, trooper. The commander’s coming.”

  A haunch of venison on a spit was roasting over the fire. The Baaz cut off a hunk of meat and handed it to Kang. The juices bubbled beneath blackened skin.

  “Morning to you, sir!” Slith said. He saluted with the bone.

  “Good morning, Slith.” Kang devoured the meat. “Excellent! Where did this come from?”

  Slith smiled. “Compliments of Lord Knight Sykes. Welcoming us to the neighborhood. Eat up, commander. There’s more where that came from. You know, I’m beginning to like this guy Sykes after all.”

  Kang carved off another hunk for himself. He and Slith moved away from the cook, to have a private talk. Kang knew his second well. Slith had probably been up for hours already, or maybe had not even gone to sleep. Slith could not rest until he’d nosed around, ferreted out the latest camp gossip, learned all he could about the situation.

  Like following those four dwarves, just to see what they were up to. Kang had always said that Slith was more curious than any kender and that this curiosity would probably land him in a whole mess of trouble one day. Until then, it came in very handy.

  “So, what’s up?” Kang asked, chewing.

  Slith pointed down the road on which they’d marched. “Lord Knight Sykes has his headquarters in the mayor’s house in the center of that village. It’s known as Mish-ka, dedicated to the good goddess.” Slith sneered and both draconians spit on the ground.

  “The army moved in three days ago,” Slith continued. “The knights killed anyone who offered resistance. Most didn’t. The town is under iron control.”

  Kang squinted, peered down the road. “I don’t see any smoke. They’re not razing the place?”

  “Nope. No massacres of the civilian population. No torturings, public floggings, or property confiscations.” Slith grinned. That was a polite term for looting.

  “I’ll be damned.” Kang grinned back. “You mean that they’re actually going to concentrate on fighting a war for a change?”

  “Get this.” Slith leaned near. “It seems that the town has a Temple for the worshippers of Mishakal.”

  Again, both draconians spit on the ground.

  “Well, the first thing Sykes does is visit that temple. He didn’t go inside, of course, but he stood outside it, admired it, and asked to see the priest. The priest comes out and he’s about dead from fear. He begs Sykes to spare the temple, saying that there’s a bunch of sick people inside. What do you think happens, commander?”

  “Sykes cuts off the priest’s head, marches inside the temple, kills the wounded and then burns the temple to the ground.”

  “No, sir!” Slith slapped his thigh with his hand. “Sykes says that he holds all the gods sacred. Their dwelling places are sacred and that, so long as the priest and his followers obey the law as set down by the knights, he will personally guarantee their safety.”

  “Times have certainly changed.” Kang marveled.

  “Of course,” Slith added, with a wink, “the knights have a list of laws as long as my tail. Curfews. Everyone has to have papers proving who they are. No one leaves town without the word from Sykes himself. No one enters town without being questioned. Civilians are not permitted to own or carry weapons. All magical items must be turned over to Sykes’s wizards, the Gray Knights. No brawling, no gambling, no public drunkenness.”

  Slith nudged Kang in the ribs. “That goes for soldiers, too, sir.”

  Kang grunted. “I guess we’ll have to watch our step. Where’d you put that keg of dwarf spirits?”

  “In my tent, sir. Under the bed.”

  “Good man. Any word on Thorbar—”

  Slith looked over Kang’s shoulder, straightened, performed a salute. “Talon Leader Huzzud, sir,” he announced.

  Kang turned, pleased to see the talon leader.

  “Good morning, Sir Knight!” Kang said. “Have you had breakfast?”

  “Good morning, Commander. Yes, thank you. You’re to report to headquarters this morning. If you’re ready, I can show you the way.”

  “Right,” Kang said. “Let’s go.”

  The two left the camp, headed toward the village. The two regiments of troops they passed on the way into the village were well entrenched, with defensive ditches dug in a square, hastily constructed wooden guard towers at the corners. Archers were posted in each. The two units faced each other across the road. The troops’ demeanor, from what Kang could see, was highly professional. He felt a qualm of guilt about the dwarf spirits.

  Sykes had turned the mayor’s house into a command post. He was taking no chances from the civilian populace. Huzzud and Kang had to pass through two sets of sentries before they were allowed to enter. Once inside, joining the other officers, they were taken to what must have once been an elegantly appointed banquet room. The table was now being used to display a large map. Huzzud introduced Kang to an officer, who was seated at a desk, adding up a series of numeric columns in a leather-bound book.

  “Commander Kang, this is Quadron Leader Leader Mumul, the logistics commander for the Second Army. Quadron Leader, this is Commander Kang of the Draconian Regiment of Engineers.” Huzzud saluted, then left.

  Mumul looked up from his numbers. “Please sit down, Commander Kang. I want to discuss with you what your role will be within the Second Army.”

  “Yes, Quadron Leader.” Kang could barely contain his excitement. Arranging his tail, he sat down in the chair, which had not been designed for draconians. It was damnably uncomfortable, pinched his wings if he folded them in and poked them if he unfurled them. The discomfort was a small price to pay.

  “Could I ask a question before we start, Quadron Leader?”

  “Certainly, Commander.”

  “What’s the status of the attack on Thorbardin? As I understand it, the lord knight force-marched his men to get here, and now, instead of attacking, you’re just sitting.”

  The quadron leader shrugged. “We were too late. The dwarves had been warned. They’ve sealed up the mountain.”

  “Are you going to besiege them, sir?”

  “No. There’s no time for that. The damn dwarves could hold out for a year against us. It would be a futile waste of manpower. We’ll let them sit, holed up in their mountain, if that’s what they want. Meanwhile, we’ll seize control of all the roads leading into and out of Thorbardin. We have time. Someday, they’ll have to come out.”

  Kang was impressed. It was a simple, but good, strategy.

  “And now, Commander, what is the strength of your command?” The quadron leader f
lipped over a new page, prepared to record the information.

  Kang responded. The quadron leader asked question after question, wanting to know the size, composition, training, equipment, and disposition of the draconian regiment. Kang was pleased with the interest the officer was showing in assessing the regiment. The knight recorded the answers in a table in his book. At last, he laid down his quill pen and sat back in his chair.

  “Thank you, Commander. The first thing I want you to do this morning is haul all that bridge-building equipment you brought us over to Third Talon.”

  Kang felt a twinge in the vicinity of his shoulder blades, a painful twinge that had nothing to do with the chair. “Yes, sir,” he said. “Do they need a bridge constructed, sir?”

  “No, Commander. They’re my engineering unit. They can use the materials and tools you brought. You can leave the wagons with Third Talon. You won’t be needing them.”

  “Ah, I understand, sir. You want us to build siege engines. Catapults, trebuchets, we’ve built them all. Why, once, during the War of the Lance, we built a catapult big enough to fling a minotaur—”

  Kang stopped. He didn’t like the way the quadron leader was smiling—patient, patronizing.

  “Third Talon is quite expert at building and manning siege engines, Commander.”

  “Sir,” Kang began, drawing in a deep breath to try to ease the knot of disappointment that was slowly tightening his stomach, “we are all well-trained engineers. Probably the best you’ll ever find. Plus, we have experience in battle. Did your Third Talon ever build a bridge with silver dragons flying overhead, filling you with dragonfear, while the elves on the other side of the bank are trying to fill you full of arrows?”

  The commander just sat there, smiling.

  “Look, sir,” Kang said, “come visit our encampment. See how we’re dug in. We only moved in ten hours ago, and yet we’ve already got the place defensible!”

  For the first time, the quadron leader showed some interest. “Very good, Commander! Very good indeed!”

  Kang was puzzled. “What do you mean, sir?”

  “Damn good diggers!” Mumul said, thumping the table in his enthusiasm. “I’m glad to hear that you’re good diggers.”

  “I beg your pardon, sir.”

  “You draconians. Damn good diggers. Since we can’t take out the dwarves, this army has been ordered to move up and conquer the elves in Qualinesti. We already have plenty of engineers, but we can always use good diggers! I’ll assign you to the Army Commissary officer, Talon Leader Stonchwald.”

  Kang’s jaw dropped, his tongue lolled. He sucked it back in with an irritated snap of his jaws. “Sir, Commissary? We aren’t cooks, we’re engineers!”

  The quadron leader had picked up his quill, was returning to his work. “Yes, very good, Commander Kang. The Commissary Command is also responsible for troop hygiene. Please report to Talon Leader Stonchwald after we’ve arrived at our base camp in the southern region of Qualinesti. Until then, try to stay out of the way of troop movements. It’s hard enough keeping this army on the move without your regiment clogging the works. We’ll be marching first thing in the morning. Have your men—make that draconians”—he said, this with a slight curl of the lip—“ready to go. That will be all, Commander.

  “Oh, and, by the way,” quadron leader added, as an afterthought, “you can each keep a short sword for your own defense, but turn in the rest of your weapons. They’ll be needed for the front-line troops. Dismissed.”

  Kang stood up, started to salute, decided the hell with it.

  Latrine duty. The quadron leader had called it by some fancy name, “troop hygiene,” but Kang knew what that meant.

  Kang looked for Huzzud on his way out. He didn’t see her and, on second thought, was glad that he didn’t. He knew she would sympathize, but he couldn’t face the shame of telling her his assignment. He marched back to his camp alone. His anger grew stronger with every step, his feet pounding it into the ground, like a hammer pounding molten steel.

  By the time he’d reached camp, he had worked himself into a tail-lashing, wing-flapping fury. His troops, recognizing the symptoms, fell over one another to get out of his way. Ignoring them all, he stomped over to the command tent.

  “Slith!” Kang’s yell resounded across the entire camp.

  Slith had been in Yethick’s tent. At the sound of his commander’s bellow, he realized something was amiss. He ran out, saw the other draconians muttering to each other, their expressions grim, unhappy. Dashing over to the command tent, Slith flung back the tent flap.

  “What’s wrong, sir?” he asked. “What’s happened? Are the dwarves attacking?”

  Kang started to tell him, but words were inadequate. His temper blew. Jumping to his feet, he picked up a camp chair, smashed it over a table. The chair slivered. Kang smote the table with his fist, chopped it in two. He was going after the tent post next, when Slith collared him.

  “Sir, I wouldn’t hit that, if I were you! You’ll bring the tent down around our ears.”

  “Good! Fine!” Kang yelled. “We can always dig our way out! That’s what we’re good for! Diggers! Good diggers! Damn these bastards to the Abyss and back again!”

  Slith’s wings drooped. He stared at his commander, incredulous. “Did you say ‘dig,’ sir?”

  Kang gnashed his teeth. Since he couldn’t knock down the tent post, he proceeded to dismember the table, pulling off its legs and smashing them on the ground.

  “Dig as in … latrines, sir?” Slith asked.

  Kang’s fury had spent itself, a cyclone blowing itself out. He was suddenly very tired. He sank down on his bunk. “We’ve been assigned to the Commissary Command to dig latrines and cooking pits,” he said angrily. “They have humans for the real combat engineering.

  They don’t need us. In fact, we’re probably freeing up some of these blue-painted savages of theirs so that they can be useful somewhere else!”

  Slith sat down next to his commander. He looked as dejected as Kang felt. “Latrine duty. I’ll be twice-damned. What are we going to do, sir?”

  Kang shook his head. “I don’t know. I really don’t know this time. Call a command staff meeting for an hour from now. Inform all of the senior officers what’s going on. We’ll talk about it then.”

  * * * * *

  An hour later, all of the draconian squadron commanders and specialist officers sat in borrowed chairs around the empty space in the command tent where the table had been. Its remnants, along with those of the chairs, were piled up in a heap outside the tent, a mute testimony to the commander’s foul mood.

  Kang opened the meeting. “As you have already heard, gentlemen, we have been assigned to latrine duty. You know as well as I do that we’ll have the makings of a revolt in our ranks if we have to dig latrines again.”

  Every draconian present hissed and muttered his agreement.

  Kang continued. “We didn’t join this army to dig holes for the humans to crap in. I can’t believe that this is how Her Majesty intends us to serve her. The question is, what do we do? I’m open to suggestions.”

  Fulkth, the chief engineering officer spoke first. “Maybe they’ll give us line infantry duty?”

  Kang snorted. “I forgot to mention that we’re to turn in our weapons.”

  He waited until the howls of outrage died down, then proceeded. “They don’t trust us. That much is obvious.”

  Slith had been sitting silent, in deep thought, his claws drumming on the side of the chair. Kang did not disturb him. When his second was ready to talk, he’d talk.

  Kang was relating everything the quadron leader had said, when Slith suddenly interrupted. “What exactly did you say when you volunteered our services to this Lord Knight Sykes, sir?”

  Kang had to think about that one. “I believe I said that I offered the regiment to serve in the Second Army, and he accepted. Why?”

  Slith’s eyes glistened. “I know you, sir. You’re proud of us. Are you sure you
didn’t say something about serving as engineers?”

  “I think I did. No, I’m sure I did,” Kang said, recalling his talk with the lord knight. “I said that we’d serve as engineers to this army.”

  Slith leaned forward. “Then that’s it, sir. We’re not being employed as engineers, therefore the terms of the agreement are canceled. We don’t have to stay.”

  Yethick nodded approvingly. “They don’t want us here. That much is obvious. I say we leave.”

  Kang looked at all of them. This was now deadly serious. He lowered his voice. “You realize that Sykes will consider this desertion. Or maybe worse. He might think we’re spies. We know too much about his movements, his strength, his plans. If we leave and they catch us, they’ll kill us.”

  Slith shrugged, grinned. “We’ve out-fought Solamnic knights, sir. I don’t see why we can’t take on the other side, if we have to. But they won’t fight, sir. I doubt if they’d even come after us. They’ve got elvish fish to fry. And if they did come after us, well, personally, I’d rather die with a sword in my gut, sir, than dig latrines again. I say we go back to Mount Dashinak.”

  Kang considered. He hated the thought of deserting—again. He imagined what Huzzud would think, that he’d run because of cowardice. She wouldn’t understand and there was no way he could explain. But did it matter what she thought? What any human thought? So long as he and his men and his Queen knew the real reason they were leaving, what the humans thought about it wasn’t worth spit.

  “Very well, gentlemen,” Kang said. “It’s decided. Tomorrow, the army of dark knights marches for Qualinesti, only we won’t be here to march with them. We move out tonight, when Solinari is low, and we march until we drop, or we get back home to Mount Dashinak, whichever comes first. We’ll take a circuitous route, to throw them off. We leave nothing behind, not our tools, not our weapons. Load up the wagons again.”

  “What if someone asks what we’re doing, sir?” Fulkth wondered.

  “They won’t. They’ll think we’re operating under special orders. Remember, the army’s moving out tomorrow morning. There’ll be people coming and going all night. No one’ll notice us. Yethik, send out foraging parties to replenish our food and water. Slith, seal off the entrance to our camp. Bring any human visitors to me. I doubt we’ll get any, but you never know. Fulkth, have a march order ready for last light. All right, let’s move.”