Knighthood of the Dragon

by Chris Bunch

  * * * *

  There were three Roche warships based in Lanzi, and now they were coming out, after a Derainian corvette who'd chanced pursuing his merchantmen almost into the harbor itself.

  They were fast, almost as fast as the corvette, and knew their waters far better.

  The Roche sailors sensed a victory, something to savor after the weeks of their convoys being savaged by ships that struck and ran.

  But the sailors weren't anticipating the full flight of dragons that dropped out of the clouds, casting pebbles that sent waterspouts climbing into the sky.

  Two pebbles, now boulders, smashed into one ship, and the rest of Hal's flight came in low, with firedarts.

  That warship took flame, and the others fled.

  But they had bowmen aboard, and one Derainian dragon was hit three times in the chest.

  Screaming pain, it climbed for the heights as the rest of the flight closed in about it.

  Somehow the dragon kept in the air in the long flight back across the Eastern Sea toward Seabreak.

  They were in sight of land when the dragon's indomitable will broke, and it spun down, into the waters.

  Hal took Storm low, saw his flier swimming hard away from the dying dragon, went around again, shouting to Storm to go down, down to land in the waters, trying to rescue the flier.

  But there was nothing to see but heaving gray waves, and the sinking body of the dragon.

  * * * *

  "All right," Hal said. His fliers were drawn up in front of him, some still in the throes of their hangovers after the fliers' traditional wake for the dead flier.

  "We're going to make things easier… and harder.

  "All of you who've no experience landing dragons aboard ship are going to learn. Half of the squadron—the half that isn't on patrol—will practice.

  "Here's the change. From now on, one flight will be assigned to each of the Adventurers. They'll be offshore, with the navy's great ships.

  "The other two flights will be here, resting. Every three days, a flight at sea will interchange with one on land.

  "You won't like it and the dragons will hate it.

  "But if you're hit—like poor Patric was—you stand a chance of living, if you can get away from Roche to one of the dragon ships."

  * * * *

  If the water hadn't been so cold, and the wind so gusty, and the seas so sloppy, it might have been funny watching the newer fliers learn how to bring their dragon down to the barge tied alongside the Adventurer, stall the reluctant beast until it thudded down, then was led up a heavy ramp on to the ship itself.

  But it was, it was, and they were, and, on a regular basis dragons and men went overboard.

  For the dragons it wasn't that upsetting. They honked displeasure, and either tented their wings over their head, as dragons had done for no one knew how long making the great passage east from unknown lands, or the more intelligent ones clambered aboard the barge or took off from the water.

  Two of them actually swam to their unseated riders and waited until they hauled themselves back into their saddles before unfurling their great wings and thumped across the ocean into the sky.

  Those beasts instantly became priceless.

  * * * *

  Hal chanced a passage over Lanzi, seeing if a convoy was in port, wondering if he dared go after the small boats that would bring the cargoes upriver, as he'd done during the siege of Aude.

  He was half looking for Roche dragons, half watching to see if the Roche had brought in any catapult units.

  Lanzi was a wonderful city, he decided. Very ancient, very rich, with twisting cobbled lanes, houses and businesses that climbed for three or more stories, leaning crazily toward each other, gay banners flapping in the wind from the sea.

  The gray world about the city may have inspired the Lanzians to paint their buildings in the rawest of bright colors.

  Even the wooden parapets were painted, many with vivid murals.

  Hal decided it would be a city he'd like to show to Khiri, when the war was over.

  * * * *

  Below Hal, a fishing village was afire. It was true that a handful of Roche marines had been quartered on the village, which made it technically a justified target. But Hal doubted if the fishermen had been given much choice by the Roche soldiers when they arrived.

  The village had a clear view of one of the deepest passages into the delta, and the watchmen would have ample time to see the Derainians, and take a small boat, or even use signal flags, to warn any merchant shipping approaching.

  And so one of the raiding ships, guided by the dragons, ran up on the beach, and armed sailors poured out, with orders to seize the marines and tell the fishermen they'd best become neutral if they didn't want to be treated as soldiers.

  Hal had no idea what had happened, but suddenly flame had poured out from one hut, then another, then a third.

  He sent Storm low, saw women and children being pushed into a group, some scattered bodies, and then the boats onshore burst into flames as well.

  By the time the raiding ship was kedged out into deeper water, the oil-soaked boats and buildings were burning down into ruins.

  He saw no sign of the civilians, wondered if they'd fled, or been taken somewhere as captives. Or…

  Hal didn't think he wanted to know for sure.

  * * * *

  In theory, having a personal life makes a warrior more vulnerable.

  Hal decided there might be merit to the idea in the abstract, but he'd take the chance.

  Besides, it didn't seem anyone was going to make it out of this war alive anyway.

  It was very nice having Khiri show up from time to time. She was never obtrusive, taking rooms at the tiny inn in the closest village, as did some of the other wives, and gave Hal someone to talk to about things other than soldiering.

  Fliers and groundsmen found lovers in the surrounding villages, or else visited Rozen and brought back friends. Every now and again someone—Hal studiedly kept from finding out who—imported a bevy of whores from the capital, and so most everyone had someone to cuddle as the nights grew colder.

  Some of the dragons came into season, and Hal arranged for them to be mated with dragons from Garadice's host, which also gave the dragon fliers some time off in the capital.

  Hal had worried there'd be problems with Khiri as the blockade tightened, but she never brought up the subject again.

  He noticed she wasn't quite as much of a flag-waver as at the start of the war, but then, who was?

  * * * *

  The squadron still suffered losses. But only one, the flier shot out of the sky over Lanzi, was the result of direct action. There still were no Roche dragons to worry about.

  The casualties came from poor judgment but mostly from fliers getting lost, and not being able to find the Adventurers, or even Deraine.

  Hal remembered what he'd come up with, years ago, before the raid on Black Island, and sent to Rozen for a magician. Bodrugan showed up, and cast a spell on the ever-loathed salt meat served aboard ship, so that a flier thinking of it would be drawn toward the fleet.

  Another spell was cast for fliers trying to return to Seabreak.

  An instantly beloved dish on the squadron was tarts, made from the small apples of the district.

  Those apples were used as the base for the second spell.

  Losses dropped, and fliers used the second spell as an excuse to visit the area's farms, ostensibly to refresh the spell with new apples, actually to court the farmers' and workers' daughters and, naturally, wives in some instances.

  It was still dangerous up there, but a deal less so than if the squadron had still been down south, back with Cantabri's slowly grinding offensive.

  * * * *

  The squadron was grounded by an early storm. The two Adventurers, unhandy pigs at sea as they were, had been brought back from the blockading squadron, and the dragons and their fliers had nothing at all to do for a few days.

  The mo
re experienced fliers spent their time drinking, maintaining their gear and sleeping. The newer ones still had energy enough for gaming, gambling and wenching.

  The storm faded, but daylong, low-level fogs still clung to the sea and the shores of Roche.

  Hal was fuming about the war's hiatus one day, watching some very bored fliers play a game of quoits, when the idea came.

  Just after dawn the next day, he had two flights in the air. Seabreak vanished into the fog, and he set a course by compass for Roche.

  Every now and again the wind scudded the fogbank open, but there was nothing but roiling ocean below.

  He kept track of the time, and on the mark started looking down and around.

  There was a long clear patch below, and Hal spotted a smallish, uniquely shaped island below.

  That gave him a location from his map, and he took the flights north, following the invisible inland passage below.

  Ahead, he saw things sticking through the fog, thin spikes that were masts, with yards vanishing in the mist and topsails here and there.

  Hidden in the mist below were Roche coasters, happily believing they were invisible to any enemies.

  But their masts gave them away, so many quoit pegs sticking up through the mist.

  Hal, flying as slowly as he could, flew along the convoy's course, back and forth, casting pebbles and then firedarts as he went. Other fliers behind and on either side did the same.

  Mostly he heard nothing but splashes as the pebbles grew into boulders and slammed into the sound.

  But there were also crashes as a boulder smashed into a ship, and screams to be heard.

  He cast until he'd run out of pebbles and darts, then brought the flights up, and set a return course for Deraine.

  Whispering death had struck once more.

  * * * *

  Kailas was brooding quietly in his hut about the blockade. It was very effective, but not a complete closure.

  When he flew over Lanzi, he could still see coasters coming in and leaving, and river boats taking cargo inland.

  Winter was almost here, and the weather would keep the dragons grounded, and probably drive the Derainian ships to seek shelter, while the Roche coasters could still bring in their goods behind the barrier islands.

  He'd been scheming for several days, without product. His fliers knew he wasn't that happy, and why.

  There was a knock.

  "Enter," he said.

  Danikel, Baron Trochu entered.

  Hal offered him some tea from the pot on a trivet.

  "You've got a problem?" he asked.

  "No, sir," Danikel said. "An idea."

  "I could use several."

  "I think I've got a way to seal off the blockade. The only thing is," Danikel said, "it'll most likely kill off some thousand Roche children and women."

  He smiled wryly, his face boyishly innocent.

  35

  Hal's plan of attack was sent off, by courier, to the palace, with a note that it would be implemented within the week unless it was countermanded by the king.

  No response came.

  That had been somewhat expected—the king, after all, ruled in the end by popularity, and Danikel's idea was one guaranteed to cause civilian deaths, not just in the course of the attack, but in the winter to come.

  Danikel's plan was simple: burn the city of Lanzi to the ground, warehouses, docks, shipping, businesses, inns and houses. With no receiving and distributing point, either for incoming or outgoing trade goods, it would be difficult to move goods promptly into the heart of Roche.

  Especially with many clerks, warehousemen, longshoremen and other trade experts hopefully being dead.

  It was a simple plan… and an ugly one.

  Roche had already lost access to some of its richest farming land, first with the assault that took the Bluffs, then with the General Offensive. Now the screws would tighten further.

  Hal had no response from Rozen, and so, as he'd promised, the plan was set in motion.

  Two flights were issued large amounts of firedarts—there should be no need of the casting pebbles on this attack.

  They were dispatched to the two Adventurers, once again at sea off the River Pettau.

  The other two flights were similarly armed, and put on standby.

  The flights aboard ship flew out in the late afternoon of the set day, and the other two, at Seabreak, were airborne an hour after the first two.

  Hal flew with the first element from the Galgorm Adventurer.

  They took off, orbited the blockade fleet once, forming up, then made for land.

  It was chill but clear as they flew up the delta. Fishermen and boaters saw the thirty dragons overhead, and went for any shelter they could find.

  None of the Derainian or Sagene fliers paid them the slightest mind.

  The waterway grew wider, and then they saw Lanzi ahead, ancient buildings along the city's canals and estuaries.

  Hal heard trumpets blast ahead of them, and men running for catapults.

  He blew a single blast on his own trumpet, and the two flights formed parallel lines, the dragons flying close.

  Then he was over the wharves, and aiming as best he could while hurling the firedarts.

  Again and again he made his throws, then the swamps of the city's outskirts were below him.

  He blew two more blasts, and slowly the lines wheeled back over the city.

  Here and there, he saw fire start to spurt, taking easily on the ancient lumber, especially along the waterfront where, for generations, fish oil had soaked the warehouses.

  Again, he sent firedarts cascading, and then they were over water, and he was out of ammunition.

  Hal set course back down the main shipping channel, into the delta and the open sea.

  They were still in sight of land when the other two flights of his squadron from Seabreak flew past, toward Lanzi.

  Then the blockading ships were ahead, and the flights broke apart, and, in line, dropped down for landings on the pair of Adventurers. There was beer waiting, and steaming roast meat on buns, but Hal had no appetite.

  The dragons ate greedily from barrels of salt beef, then fresh firedarts in netting were loaded aboard the dragons, and they were airborne again, flying back toward Lanzi.

  Once more, they passed the rest of the squadron, coming back empty.

  Hal took his flights upriver. Now there was no need to check his compass—a pillar of smoke curled above the doomed city.

  He circled wide to attack Lanzi from a different quadrant.

  Once more they flew their course, seeding death and flame.

  One of the newer fliers was gawking down at the boiling fires, didn't notice a catapult tracking her. Her dragon was hit near his hindquarters, screamed, snapping at the bolt, pitching his flier off, down into the roaring blaze, then followed her into a fiery death.

  Hal brought the dragons back over Lanzi, dropping the last of the firedarts, then set a course back to sea.

  Once more, they saw the other two flights, shuttling back to feed the fires in the dusk.

  Hal kept his dragons in the air, and didn't land on the ships.

  The other two flights would, and replenish and spend the night.

  Hal and his dragons at least had the comfort of Seabreak.

  The fliers were very quiet that night. No one seemed interested in drinking. Perhaps it was because they'd been told they'd be returning to Lanzi the next morning.

  Or perhaps there were other reasons.

  They took off in midmorning, laden with the old-fashioned firebottles. The two flights on the Adventurers should have been well on their way.

  It was a still fall day as they sighted land, and then the two flights coming away from the city.

  This time, there wasn't a smoke cloud to follow, but a writhing great flame that rose higher than his dragons. For an instant, he was reminded of the great demon that still waited outside Carcaor.

  He signaled, and his dragons climbed
to a safer altitude, above the flames.

  Today, no one was interested in shooting at dragons.

  All that existed below was fire and agony.

  Hal steeled himself, went in over Lanzi, scattering firebottles as he went.

  He saw, below, a fire wagon hurtling up a street. A gout of flame reached out from an alley, almost casually, and licked up wagon, horses, men.

  Below him, as he swung back, still adding to the fire, was a small lake. There were bodies floating in it, and he saw, his stomach churning, that the water was boiling.

  He had to bank sharply as fire came up at him.

  Hal saw a wizard, easy to define in his robes, acolytes flanking, evidently casting a spell.

  But the fire was stronger than magic this day, and the flames took him and his assistants.

  Hal realized he could hear nothing—the fire was roaring like a great beast as it ravaged the city. The center of Lanzi was a mass of flames, and Hal blinked, seeing a stone building melt and pour across a street.

  It was as hot as a still summer day over the city. Hal was sweating, not just from the heat.

  They were over the docks then, and the fire had taken the warehouses and ships. There was a handful of boats on the river, and the flames were reaching them as well.

  Out of ammunition, they went back downriver, seeing people fleeing the city below them.

  They landed on the Adventurer, and Sir Loren came up to him.

  "Sir, there's three fliers who came back with their firebottles. They've refused to go back over Lanzi."

  Hal wanted to sympathize with them, but couldn't.

  "Tell them to make their own way back to Seabreak," he said, his voice sounding like it was coming out of a metallic throat, "turn in their dragon emblem, and tell them to stand by. They'll be off the squadron as soon as I return."

  Hal and his two flights spent that night on the ships. Kailas was totally exhausted, but couldn't sleep.

  At first light, he took his two flights, freshly rearmed, back over Lanzi.

  There were still flames, but there was little left to burn.

  He saw a scatter of river boats up from the city, sent Storm down on them.

  The sailors dove overboard when they saw him coming.

  He coldly fired their ships, then led his dragons back out to sea, and to Seabreak.