by Chris Bunch
“It’s the buzz of all Deraine, you know.”
Hal thought of explaining, decided what he and Tregony felt about each other was no one’s business, so long as it didn’t get in the way of the war.
He did have one question of Lowess—how had this matter of their purported competition spread so widely?
“You certainly don’t think you’re the only young hero who’s got a taleteller hanging to his coattails, do you?” Lowess answered briskly. “You just happen to have gotten lucky and drawn the best.”
Hal and his flight element, now down to ten fliers, nine dragons, went about their mission, escorting the convoys up and down the River Comtal. Sometimes they met the black dragons, and fought them if they had the advantage, but mostly were forced to flee, swearing at Hal’s absolute orders, and sworn at by the sailors below, who had no reason to understand their abandonment.
Hal realized, after a day or two, that Lowess was just passing time, waiting for something.
Since he didn’t get in the way much, and his presence kept Khiri around, that was well and good with Kailas.
He wanted her not to leave until he finished puzzling this matter of love over in his mind.
Now the rumor was everywhere—Deraine and Sagene were getting ready for a great offensive that would end the siege once and for all.
Hal cursed the inability of anyone in the army to keep his mouth shut and his nose in his own business, but it didn’t change matters.
Alarms were shouted, trumpets blared, and there was chaos in the village. Hal made it out of his sanctuary, no more than a towel wrapped around him, in time to see a huge black dragon climbing away from the village.
“What is it?” Khiri asked sleepily, coming out to the head of the steps. It was just dawn, and they’d been up later than they should, still delighting in each other’s body.
Hal shook his head, saw a soldier running toward him, waving a tube.
“Sir!” the woman shouted. “It’s for you.”
Hal blinked, took the tube. Tied to it was a pennon Hal recognized—Ky Yasin’s!
And his name was neatly written on the tube.
He twisted it open, forgetful of sorcery, and took out a note.
It read:Lord Kailas:
There appears to be a matter of honor between us, that you might find amusing to settle at your convenience.
I have heard that you are the ranking dragon killer of Deraine and Sagene, and have even had the temerity to dub yourself Dragonmaster.
I will meet you, just the two of us, over any place you name, at a time and date of your choosing, where we may discuss this matter at greater length.
If you have interest, and consider yourself an honorable man, return this container with your conditions across the walls of Aude. It will reach me.
Ky Bayle Yasin
Commander
First Guards
Dragon Squadron
Hal read it once, again. A smile came. He had an idea that might possibly solve two problems at the same time.
The dragon fliers listened closely as Hal outlined the challenge from Yasin. Lowess hovered in the background, beaming at yet another superb tale falling into his lap, pen scribbling frantically.
“First question I’ve got,” Hal said, “is the bastard being honorable. Opinions?”
He pointed around. They ran from Mariah’s “friggin’ impossible. He’s a Roche,” to Gart’s “maybe. Just maybe,” to Sir Nanpean’s “who gives a hang. What a chance to go down in history, win or lose.”
Indeed, Hal thought. Especially if I lose, Tregony’ll be the one going down in history. I’ll just be going down.
“My own opinion,” he said carefully, “is it’s worth a shot. I personally don’t believe Yasin’ll be the only one to show up.
“But that doesn’t mean we should play the utter fool.”
He went to a large-scale map of the Aude region.
“Now, here’s what I propose. I’ll drop the message over Aude, agreeing to the meet. I’ll set it for . . . oh, five days from now. At dawn. We’ll meet here,” and his finger stabbed at the map about ten miles downstream from Aude.
“Away from the front lines, and this is a huge damned meadow,” he went on.
“I’ll agree to fight him at, say, five hundred feet.”
“That’ll give you some advantage,” Sir Loren said judiciously. “The air’s thicker down there, and his black will be a little harder to handle in tight turns.”
“More than one advantage,” Hal said. “Just in case he brings friends, I’ll want the rest of you on the ground here,” and he indicated an area about a mile from the meadow.
“Light trees, which’ll give the dragons cover. If he fights fair, you can stay where you are. But if he shows up with his squadron, then you can get in the air fast, save my young ass, and maybe wipe out some of those blacks.
“Rumor has it we’ll be needing all the help we can get in the not too distant future.”
“You’re a damned romantic fool,” Khiri said.
“So it appears,” Hal agreed. “But I happen to believe I can tear Yasin’s nose off, and feed it to his damned black dragon.”
“As if he’ll be the only one there!”
“If that’s the case, then I’ll have the whole flight behind me. I don’t think he’ll bring his whole squadron to wipe out one dumb Deraine.”
“You think!” Khiri said. “Men!”
“Shut up, and come here.”
She came across the room, sank into his arms.
Hal nibbled on her ear, then whispered, “Even a romantic can be a sneaky bastard.”
She lifted her head back, considered his smile.
“You have a plot.”
“Maybe.”
“Which you won’t tell me about.”
“Not now. Now, give me back that ear, if you will.”
Hal rode to Command Headquarters, looked up Limingo.
“I’m sorry, Lord Kailas,” he apologized. “But I’ve been running myself ragged, like every other magician with the army, with . . . with this plan we’re developing. But I promise you, within the week, I’ll let you know what clues that dagger gives.”
Hal wasn’t happy—he’d hoped sorcery could keep him from having to play out the game with Yasin.
But since it wouldn’t, he found Lord Cantabri, asked him for a small favor, and explained.
“One company, only?” Cantabri looked at the map again. “I’ll have two there, I promise. That might improve the quality of slaughter.
“You know, your duel with Yasin has shot around the army like an arrow-chase.”
“What are the odds?”
Cantabri hesitated.
“Six to five,” he admitted. “No one feels that the Roche will live up to their end of the bargain.”
“Six to five,” Hal mused. “That’s the best life gives you, isn’t it? Either way?”
Cantabri grinned.
“Perhaps, knowing what you told me, I might be convinced to have a bit of a go myself.”
The days crawled past. Hal watched his fliers closely, but none of them behaved differently than before, and he wasn’t able to narrow his search for the spy, if spy there was.
A courier came down to summon Sir Thom Lowess to the Armies’ Command, the day before the duel. Hal knew that meant the offensive was drawing near.
Lowess sent the courier back, saying he’d be honored to join them, in a day’s time, but he had another matter to take care of first.
“I don’t know,” Khiri said, “if I should be here, or not. If something happens . . .”
“If something happens,” Hal said, “wouldn’t you rather hear it directly?”
“I suppose so. Oh, dammit, I’m going to cry.”
Hal slept badly that night. He was glad to be roused by the orderly warrant two hours before dawn.
He dressed quickly, went to the fliers’ room. He’d ordered guards around the building, and the only people to be
admitted were Sir Loren, Farren Mariah, Mynta Gart.
“I’m changing the orders,” Hal said briskly. “I want each of you to take two other fliers out under your absolute orders.
“But don’t, I repeat, do not, land where I ordered you to.
“Instead . . .” And Hal outlined his orders.
“A question, if I might?” Sir Loren asked. “Why the change?”
“You can ask, but you’ll not get an answer. At least, not right now.
“You’re dismissed. The other fliers and the dragons should be getting rousted out and fed by now.”
Half an hour before dawn, the rest of the dragons in the flight took off. Hal had told each of them to obey any commands signaled by the three team leaders, no matter what they were.
He waited until they disappeared into the darkness, then went to Storm.
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 seven hundred 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 contentment, 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 important, 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.
38
Reinforcements started coming in thick and fast, as did supplies. Hal’s flight came to full strength, and, wondrously, 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 tentmate, 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, whom 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 their 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.
