The Last Battle

by Chris Bunch

Hal had no idea how demons thought.

  Uluch seemed to have forgotten about his previous life as an orderly, or as anything else.

  Now he was a companion to dragons.

  When he was assigned his dragon, it was as if the beast, about four years old by Garadice's reckoning, was the only dragon that had ever existed.

  As soon as he'd ridden it for the first time, he started spending his nights with the beast.

  "Good thing Uluch's feeding him well," Kimana said. "Otherwise we'd come out one morning and find us one dragon flier short, and that monster picking his teeth."

  "Or worse," Farren Mariah said. "I suppose we should be glad Uluch's assigned to a male.

  "Otherwise…"

  He shook his head lasciviously.

  "There's something worse," Kimana said. "Or more perverted."

  "Both of you can stop, right here, right now," Hal said.

  Uluch didn't hear, and if he had, he probably wouldn't have cared about the canards.

  Hal realized, to his considerable embarrassment, that he knew nothing about the man, even though Uluch had spent years as his orderly.

  It was a little late to be asking for a biography.

  If it was possible to dote on a dragon, Uluch doted on his. He'd given it a name, but told no one what it was, for some unknown reason.

  He brushed and washed it twice a day, wouldn't let it stale where it slept, flew it to water and bathed it at least every other day.

  He'd personally drilled the saddle- and quiver-mounting holes in the dragon's carapace, wincing as he did, using the modified weapons they'd turned into tools.

  It didn't hurt the dragon, Garadice swore, but it seemed to pain Uluch to the depths of his soul.

  Uluch spent as much time in the air as he was allowed. Climbing high, he would push his mount through maneuvers he'd seen other, more experienced fliers do, and devised ones of his own, getting lower and lower until he ran out of altitude, when he would practice his low-flying skills.

  Hal was watching him one day, as he sported with his mount in the open valley of their base.

  The day was calm, peaceful. High overhead, Kimana and Quesney fought a mock duel.

  Toward the coast, there were a pair of wild dragons. There'd been more of them seen around the valley lately, and Hal was starting to worry about someone not recognizing a red and black until it was too late, and exposing the secrecy of their base.

  A pair of just-captured dragons were being taught shouted commands by Garadice and one of the new fliers.

  Kailas could smell Chook's kitchen—the aroma of a stew of various animals and wild plants. He thought wistfully of bread, fresh-baked, milk, a glass of charged wine, put those thoughts aside, and went back to watching Uluch.

  It took a few minutes to figure what he was doing. He'd put handkerchiefs on the tops of grass stems, not a foot from the ground, and was diving low and having the dragon pluck them away with his talons or jaws.

  Hal thought it incredibly dangerous, was deciding how he'd order Uluch to train more safely without sounding a complete fool, when the red and black dragons appeared.

  Hal was on his feet, shouting a warning.

  But there was no way Uluch could hear in time.

  For an instant, Hal thought the red and blacks had mounted a clever ambush. But there would have been more of them if they'd discovered the valley… and then he noted their obvious surprise as the hostile dragons screeched, started to climb, then changed their mind and came in for the easy kill.

  Uluch's dragon wasn't there for their fangs. Uluch had had an instant to realize he was being attacked, jerked his animal's bridle, and it had turned sharply into the attack, almost digging in a wing tip.

  One red and black overshot Uluch, the other turned with him, striking for the beast's neck. Uluch's dragon reached with a talon, had the red and black's wing by the leading edge, and tore at it.

  The dragon screamed in pain, ducked, but ran out of height.

  He smashed into the ground, breastfirst, head and neck futilely lifting as he rolled, over and over, bones smashing.

  There was the flash of flame, and then nothing.

  The second red and black flew as fast as it could for the valley's mouth.

  But Kimana and then Quesney had seen the flurry, and both were diving.

  Kimana got there first, her dragon coming down just above the red and black, talons reaching for the monster's head, tearing at its eyes.

  The red and black pulled, but was held firm, and Kimana's dragon had it by the neck, ripping upward.

  Then it flared into fire, and was gone.

  "We're half ready for them," Hal said to the somber group around him. "And I think that's about all we're going to get. We've pushed our luck as far as we can.

  "We knew they'd find us, sooner or later. I don't know if they did, or if they just happened on us. I think it was coincidence, but we can't operate on that belief.

  "I'm sending two dragons to the forward camp at dawn, and we'll regroup here, and start making battle plans.

  "Tonight, I want four fliers on standby, two in the air, and two ready for takeoff. Change over every two hours.

  "Fliers, sleep ready to fly, and the dragons will have to spend the night in harness.

  "That's all."

  It was getting dark.

  Hal walked out of the ravine, checking the camouflage over it.

  It looked all right.

  Then he saw two things:

  First were three dragon kits. He guessed them no more than months old, more cute than lethal-looking. They were really too young to have left the nest. Hal wondered if their parents had been killed by other dragons, or by red and black demons, and how and why they'd come to this valley.

  They were crouched atop the valley wall, watching everything that happened below very intently.

  Wild dragons should have fled, or never should have approached the men.

  Hal thought, for an instant, that these could be demons.

  But they were green, deep orange, and a mottled dark purple, and Hal had never seen demon kits.

  At least not yet.

  Then he noted Bodrugan, in the middle of the valley, crouching about like he was collecting twigs.

  He trotted to him.

  The magician looked up.

  "Did you see those dragonlets?" Hal pointed.

  "I did," Bodrugan said. "I don't think they're hostile. I sense no threat, no danger. I wouldn't worry about them."

  "What the hells are they doing?"

  "Damned if I know," the wizard said. "Maybe Garadice would have an idea. Ah. Here we go."

  Bodrugan knelt, carefully plucked blades of grass.

  "Very well then, what are you doing?" Hal asked.

  "This is where Uluch destroyed one of the dragons today," Bodrugan said. "I'm trying to collect any… residue. Perhaps I can develop some kind of spell with it that might help us."

  Hal thought that was not a bad idea. Then he had one of his own.

  "I want your assistant, Scothi," he said. "I want to put him, with one of my scouts, probably that thug Gorumna, in the mountains, as close as I can get them to the red and black base."

  "Why?"

  "I don't know, precisely," Kailas said. "I want them to watch those whatever-they-ares, and give me anything they can see.

  "We're getting ready to fight them without a plan or a clue.

  "And that sounds like guaranteed trouble."

  "It does, doesn't it?" Bodrugan agreed, getting up.

  "When do you want him?"

  "Right now," Hal decided. "I'd like to put them in place tonight. Both moons are rising, and that'll give us enough light to fly by."

  "I know two people who are about to become very unhappy," Bodrugan said. "And I suspect if Limingo hadn't gotten himself killed, I'd be one of them."

  Hal inclined his head, didn't answer. "Let me know if you find anyone around these parts that is happy," he said.

  Hal's idea mig
ht not have been elaborately planned, but it felt right.

  Of course, he'd be one of the fliers who'd put the watchers in place.

  He chose two other fliers to accompany him—Farren Mariah and Kimana.

  The extra dragon was just in case there were any emergencies.

  The two men for the watch, Bodrugan's assistant Scothi, and the former scout, Gorumna, carried heavy packs with food and their bedrolls.

  As they were getting ready to take off, Bodrugan came up with two small sticks. "I've ensorceled these two as one," he explained to Scothi. "When you reach your position, put yours on the ground, and don't disturb it. If you have anything to report… or if you're discovered… wiggle your twig, which my stick'll hopefully echo, and we'll do what we can to rescue you. If you have to run, keep the stick with you, and mine will be drawn to it.

  "I wish we could figure some sort of voice-sending," he said.

  The two men looked at each other, carefully keeping blank faces, kissed, and it was time to go.

  Hal led the other two dragons north and east to the red and blacks' lair.

  The mountains rose ahead of him, and he sent Storm low, just over the scrub trees.

  The moons were very bright, and he could see almost as if it were daylight.

  He brought Storm into a circle just short of the red and blacks' valley, and landed atop a mountain crest.

  "The dragons are just over the next ridge," he told Scothi and Gorumna. "I'd suggest you get no closer than that moun-taintop there, and find some sort of cover to watch from.

  "Good luck."

  There wasn't anything more to say.

  The three dragons took off, went back the way they'd come.

  Hal kept looking back, at the dark bulk of the mountains, hoping he'd been right in his plan, if it could be given that firm a name.

  It was false dawn when they returned to their valley base. The three dragon kits had gotten closer to the valley floor. Two of them were curled in balls, sound asleep, while the other kept watch.

  Hal wondered about them once more, then put the matter aside.

  There were more important concerns.

  33

  For five days, about all the Dragonmaster had to do—all that he could manage, beyond the immediate demands of his body and his duty—was stare at Bodrugan's damned stick.

  He noticed, but didn't pay much attention to, the fact that the dragon kits were now being fed, first by Chook and Uluch, then in self-appointed shifts by the others.

  Uluch also piled dried grass into a mow, and the small monsters found that acceptable bedding.

  That made Hal pay more attention, and he asked Garadice if he'd ever seen baby dragons behave like these.

  Garadice said he hadn't, except when a dragon had been raised by humans almost from the egg.

  Farren Mariah was listening.

  He snickered.

  "Like that wonderful nightmare you had, back during the war. Raised by an ickle pretty girl-child from the bottle. What did you name it? Sugary?"

  "I didn't name it," Hal snarled. "The little girl called it Sweetie."

  Garadice looked for an explanation, didn't get one from either flier.

  The original Sweetie was not one of Hal's favorite memories, since she'd neatly dumped him into enemy captivity, then vanished.

  "Another thing I don't understand," Garadice said, "is why we've been having flyovers by wild dragons in the last few days. I'd like an explanation for that, too."

  But no one had one.

  Hal had the stick watched around the clock, and, just at dawn of the sixth day, it twitched. Before the flier assigned to it could call an alarm, it slowly started turning.

  Hal was shouting for the fliers he'd named for the pickup.

  He was taking a very heavy team of six dragons. He would lead three, with the other two fliers being Farren Mariah and Kimana. A second vee was led by Cabet, with Hachir and Aimard Quesney.

  Bodrugan wanted to fly as well, but Hal told him no. He wanted the magician to ride behind him, with the stick.

  The day was bright with promise, a crisp wind riffling the grasses of the prairies below.

  In the distance, five wild dragons saw them, and turned to parallel their flight.

  The plains ended, and climbed into foothills and mountains.

  Bodrugan leaned over Hal's shoulder.

  "The stick is moving… so are they. Which probably means they've been seen."

  Hal thought for an instant, untied his trumpet, and blasted a note.

  The other fliers looked.

  He pointed up.

  All of them pulled their dragons up into a climb.

  If the men on the ground had been discovered, the red and blacks would be attacking them.

  And there was no weapon as deadly for a dragon flier as having height on his enemy.

  Hal leaned back, shouted over his shoulder.

  "Can you track them?"

  "Yes," Bodrugan shouted. "Unless the demons have countermagic."

  Hal took the other five fliers very high, until he would barely be able to make out the men on the ground, depending on the magician to spot the pair.

  Now the foothills had grown into cliffs, and they were nearing the demons' base.

  And they saw the red and black dragons.

  There must have been a dozen of them, swarming around a tree-covered rise, smoke billowing from the ground.

  Bodrugan jabbed him in the ribs.

  "They're down there. Near the hilltop."

  Hal could have guessed as much.

  But he nodded thanks, and motioned down, not wanting now to give their presence away with his trumpet.

  Two-to-one odds, he thought.

  Oh well… there'd been worse than that in the war.

  He tapped Storm on the neck with his reins.

  The dragon didn't need any direction, but instantly ducked his head, and, hissing like a kettle, dove on the red and blacks.

  Farren and Kimana were almost beside him, and, about twenty yards above and behind, Cabet and his two companions plunged into battle.

  As they closed, a red and black dragon below suddenly rolled over on a wing, and hurtled toward the ground. It exploded into flames, vanished.

  So the scouts were fighting back.

  Hal heard the angry screams of the dragons below.

  He cocked his crossbow, notched a quarrel, looked for a target.

  He had no time for more than one.

  Two, actually, as he noted Storm's talons reaching for the wing of a red and black. Kailas switched his aim to a second monster, fired, hit fair in the beast's neck. It must have died instantly, for it exploded in midair.

  Storm had the second dragon by the wing, tore at it, ripped it almost away, then let go as they plummeted past, Hal pulling at the reins to bring his dragon out of its dive.

  Storm came level bare yards from the ground, and, without bidding, climbed for altitude.

  Hal chanced a shot at a red and black above him, missed cleanly, ducked as a demon flew close, its wings flailing.

  He managed to reload, fired at that dragon, saw no sign of a hit, then there was a large red and black just above him. Storm had it by the throat, tore once, as a bird-killing dog does, and then they were in the middle of the swarming fight.

  Hal found a target, and the red and black dove, trying for escape. It almost made it, clearing the ridge crest narrowly, going for the valley. But Hal had a steady shot, and hit it in the body, behind the carapace. The demon screamed, pinwheeled, and then blew up.

  The sky was empty of red and blacks. Hal quickly counted his men, and came one short.

  "I saw him taken," Bodrugan said from behind, in a shaken voice. Hal had quite forgotten about him. "It was Cabet, I think."

  And so it was.

  The veteran had been struck from below, torn from his mount, and the demon ripped at his corpse as it fell.

  Cabet, Hal thought mournfully, as they landed on the ridge crest, and
the acolyte and scout came running from cover. Poor bastard, after going through the war, not being able to find a life, and dying here, in this unknown land.

  But then he cheered himself, thinking that everyone had to die, and Cabet, who seemed to have not much of a life beyond dragon flying, couldn't have found a better death.

  Maybe.

  They flew hard and low, back for their valley.

  Hal pulled Storm up and around, in a high bank, making sure they hadn't been followed.

  There were no red and blacks to be seen—nor any unrid-den dragon at all.

  They landed.

  The others in the expedition could count, and quickly realized who'd gone down.

  Possibly the hardest hit was the young woman who'd been Cabet's dragon's handler.

  He heard her say, in a very soft voice, "Whatever will I do now?" before starting to dissolve, noiselessly, in tears.

  They mourned Cabet… but the story the scout and acolyte had to tell made most forget about the flier for the moment.

  Besides, fliers and front-line soldiers had learned, in the war, to put their lost aside, or chance having their own souls die with the dead.

  Perhaps Hal felt it a bit harder than most, since Cabet was yet another of the old guard who'd finally gone under.

  "We moved away from the hill as soon as you'd taken off," Scothi began. "Gorumna took point, since he is the best at wildcraft."

  The whole party was huddled around the scouts.

  "We'd made it down into the valley by first light, and found shelter in a nest of rocks.

  "There were red and black dragons overhead for most of the day, behaving as if they were suspicious of something, but not sure what.

  "We didn't move until dusk, then went on, to the hill overlooking the dragons' nest… if that's what it's supposed to be called.

  "We found a good hide—a rocky thicket. We cleared brush away from close to the ground, so we could watch the valley below.

  "We laid out your stick, Bodrugan, like you'd told us, then we waited. I was too excited… scared, maybe… to sleep.

  "At dawn, we could see the dragons, sprawled about, sleeping. They didn't seem to be keeping any watch.

  "We counted at least fifty… they were piled atop each other, so it was hard to make an accurate count.

  "When it was full light, four of them took off, and circled their valley a few times. We stayed still."