by Chris Bunch
They pushed out into the current, and rowers heaved mightily.
The line grew ragged against the Ichili's swift current, and then the boats were in midstream, then into the shallows safely.
The soldiers leapt out, and Roche fighters came to meet them.
There was a flurry of fighting; then the Roche were pushed back, as the boats shuttled back for another load.
This time, they'd barely loaded and left the west bank when many of them began to twist and roil in the water. A few overturned, and there came up screams.
Hal took Storm low, to see what was going on, and saw strange creatures pulling at the boats. Some of them were driven away by alert archers or spearmen, but more came up from the depths to take their places.
It came to Hal—these were like the monsters of wizardry created back during the attack on Kalabas.
Some boat coxswains panicked, and turned back. Others tried to follow their orders, and the creatures tore at them.
On the far shore the Roche soldiers had gained heart, and were coming back on the invaders.
Step by step, the Sagene and Derainian infantry were being pushed back toward the river.
Hal caught himself, reached behind him, into a case strapped to the back of his saddle. He came out with a firedart, sent Storm diving down.
He waited until the dragon was no more than fifty feet above the river, reflexively pulling out of its dive, then leaned over and pitched the firedart close to a beleaguered boat.
It hit the water not five feet from the boat's gunwales, exploded, and the fire spread over the water, smoking greasily.
The creatures attacking the boat, who might have been bloodred seals with fangs and arms, rolled away from the boat and disappeared.
Hal took out another firedart, found another target, and then his squadron was down with him, and the Ichili was spattered with flames.
The boats straightened out, continued on their course, and Hal heard a warning blast from somewhere.
Above him, out of the clouds, dove Yasin's decimated but still deadly squadron. Now it was their turn to have the advantage of height.
A dragon was hurtling down toward Storm, and Hal sent Storm back toward the water.
He watched, waited, as the dragon closed, till he could see the tight grin of its flier, anticipating a victory.
Then he sent Storm rolling out of the way.
The Roche dragon tried to recover, had too much speed, and slammed into the Ichili.
Hal sent Storm climbing, into the heart of Yasin's squadron. At its head, and he absolutely knew without knowing how, was Ky Yasin.
He went for him, fired, and put a bolt in Yasin's dragon's foreleg. Then Yasin was gone, and it was a mad swirl over Carcaor.
Hal managed a quick glance down, saw the boats coming back across with another load, untroubled.
The magicians of Sagene and Deraine must've produced their counterspell.
Then there was a dragon just above him, and he put a bolt in its belly just as the dragon's tail flailed at him.
Storm had the tail in his jaws, tore sideways, and the Roche dragon screeched, was gone.
There was another, wounded dragon converging on him, and Hal aimed closely, hit the flier in the head, knocked him out of his saddle.
They had the heights then, the snarling fight about to begin, and Hal heard repeated blasts from a trumpet.
He looked, saw an unknown dragon, its flier blowing a horn frantically, and waving his free hand.
Hal knew that prearranged signal.
The flier had seen Bodrugan's flags from his mountaintop. Either the demon had appeared or Bodrugan's magic said he was about to.
Just as Yasin's fliers dove away upriver to reform, Hal was blowing the recall, and going for the squadron base.
The dragon handlers heard his signal, and had the spear cradles ready.
Hal put Storm down almost next to one, and, in seconds, the cradle was tied around the dragon.
It seemed as if every nonflier in the squadron was helping, but Hal had no time for thanks, taking Storm up ahead of the others.
Storm didn't like the cradle or the heavy spear suspended under his belly, but confined his protests to a high whine, then concentrated on reaching for the sky.
At full speed, Kailas drove Storm downriver, toward the grim mountaintop and its ruins.
Then he rounded the last bend in the river, and saw the ruins, just as they shook as if taken by an earthquake, and then cascaded off the sides of that great brown demon, rearing from his underground or otherworldly lair.
This time he was taller than two hundred feet, and this time he didn't stay on the mountaintop, but strode forward, impossibly walking down its near-vertical side, toward Hal and the river.
Maybe he had been called by Roche wizards, or maybe the bloodshed in Carcaor was his summons.
A dragon hurtled past Hal toward the demon. It was Alcmaen. Hal grudged him courage, when he should have been screaming in terror.
Alcmaen's spear came undone, and wobbled toward the demon. But he was too far away, and the spear dove toward the river.
Alcmaen tried to bank away, but was too close, and the demon swatted both the Sagene and his dragon down, crumpling them as if they were paper.
Hal banked around the demon, toward his side, and was coming in for an attack when a black dragon was in front of him, and a crossbow spat a bolt at him.
Yasin's fliers had taken advantage of the break in action, and were coming back on them.
Mariah was just above the demon, coming straight down, and released his spear. It took the demon somewhere in the chest, and the whole world rang with the monster's scream.
Two other dragons dropped their spears, both missing, as Hal turned Storm, into the face of a surprised Roche flier.
Storm tore at the beast's side with his double horns, and it fell.
The demon was swaying, expanding, very unsolid.
Its chest was pointed to Hal's side, and Hal hoped, as he sent Storm in again, that its attention was elsewhere.
He was close, very close, and Storm was whining in fear.
Hal pulled at the cord, and the spear arced away, and took the dragon in its chest.
It stumbled back, fell against the rock wall it had just descended, and Hachir came in and dropped his spear. It caught the demon in the belly, and it collapsed, fell forward into the Ichili, and then, very suddenly, there was nothing there as another flier's spear went through nothingness to clang against a boulder.
Nothing but onrushing Roche dragons.
Hachir was banking back toward Hal, and a dragon carrying Yasin's guidon dove on him.
Hachir rolled out of the way as Yasin recovered, climbing.
Hachir went after him, and the two vanished into a cloud.
Hal was bent over Storm's neck, calling for everything the dragon had, and they were climbing after the two.
Then one dragon came out of the cloud—Yasin's.
Hal saw no sign of Hachir or his dragon.
Yasin brought his dragon around, and dove on Hal. He was aiming his crossbow. Hal ducked, barely in time, and shot back, missing.
Both dragons circled, bare yards above the cliffs, as their fliers reloaded. Yasin aimed quickly, fired, missed, as Hal aimed his crossbow.
He was suddenly the crossbow, the bolt, and moved his aim a little left. Yasin saw his death approaching, sat frozen as Hal pulled back on the trigger.
The bolt shot forward, and Ky Yasin flew into it.
He screamed as it hit him in the chest, and his dragon dove straight down, toward the Ichili.
It struck hard, a gout of brown water lifting.
Hal took Storm very low.
But there was nothing but ripples.
Then a dragon's foreleg rose above the water, sunk again.
Ky Bayle Yasin was gone.
Athelny of the Dragons was avenged, as was Saslic and all the other dragon fliers who'd been killed in this war.
&nbs
p; Hal Kailas wondered why he was crying.
But it didn't matter. No one could see.
He took Storm back upriver, his squadron forming on him, to Carcaor.
The city was in flames.
Heavy lighters were on the east river's edge, and were loading cavalry.
The palace in Carcaor's center was a firestorm, like Hal had brought to Lanzi.
Soldiers were streaming across the river and through the city's streets.
Charging horsemen rode past them, shattering the few Roche formations that stood fast.
Then there was nothing but running men, and other men after them, killing as they ran.
White flags exploded through Carcaor.
The war was finally over and done.
43
It was stormy, and the winds from the nearby whitecap-tossed Western Ocean promised a gale this night.
But it didn't matter.
Hal—and Storm—would sleep warm this night, warm in Cayre a Carstares, Lady Khiri's castle.
The war was truly over.
Lord Bab Cantabri found it very difficult to make peace, since Roche's ruling barons had either been killed, took their own lives, or fled.
Not that it mattered.
Once the Roche realized their leaders were gone, it was if a solid bar of steel was suddenly revealed as rusted through.
Carcaor was the last holdings of the Roche, and now it was gone, as well.
There was some looting, some murders by the conquering Sagene and Derainian soldiers, but not that much.
They were almost as weary as the Roche.
There would be some kind of victory parade sometime in the next few weeks. Actually, there would be two of them, one in Rozen, one in Fovant.
Hal didn't give a diddly-damn if he was in either.
The war was over, and he was no longer a soldier. He supposed they'd send him some papers one day or another.
Many of the soldiers had felt the same, and had gone home on their own ticket, not waiting for any discharge or bonus, content with their lives.
That had been the case with Hal's squadron.
He'd been surprised so many of the old fighters had survived—Farren Mariah, Mynta Gart, Sir Loren Damian. Even some of the newer ones had made it—Chincha and Cabet. Richia had been killed in the final struggle with Yasin's black dragons.
Hal wondered what the death count was for the ten years and more of war. Two million a side? Three? More?
He also wondered what would happen to Roche, now completely shattered.
But not that much.
That would be for others, for diplomats and such, to worry about.
All that Hal wanted was to sleep, and then, maybe, go looking for the boy who wanted to be a dragon flier, who'd been dragged into the army so long ago.
He wondered, if he found him, he'd recognize him.
Hal shook his head, took himself away from the dark mood coming on.
Below him was Cayre a Carstares.
Storm gave a happy honk, swung around, and lowered toward the ground.
A dot came out of a building, ran to the center of the keep.
Khiri.
And that was all Lord Hal Kailas of Kalabas, the Dragonmaster, needed or wanted.
For a time.
About the Author
Chris Bunch became a full-time novelist following his twenty-year career as a television writer. A military veteran, he was the Locus bestselling author of Star Risk, Ltd., and such popular works at the Sten series, The Seer King, The Demon King, and the Last Legion series. He passed away in July 2005.
