by Tony Daniel
“Yes, this is why they’ve also reinforced the north gate. Those additional troops have had to be taken from somewhere else, and where they’ve come from is the eastern gate, where they believe they are least vulnerable. The eastern forces that remain are camped on a meadow and wheat fields there between the town and a small rise called Bone Hill. The road then leads into the forest and across a creek.”
“Leach Creek,” Wulf said. “I know it. And that flat area in front of the eastern gate is called Raukenrose Meadow, even though it isn’t really a meadow anymore. Mostly wheat and barley fields.”
Earl Keiler nodded. “The area to the south of Dornstadt Road, the road heading east, is hilly, the forest dense. The best place to emerge is from just north of the road.”
“Alerdalan Woods.”
“Yes,” said Washbear, consulting his map. “We have a strong network of otherfolk settled there as well.” He looked toward Fruling, who was seated nearby sipping a glass of water.
“The Lindenfolk will make the path easier,” Fruling said. “You may depend on it.”
Keiler turned toward Esserholz. “Do you have the diversion ready?”
“Planned out,” said Esserholz. “Whether it’ll work or not is anyone’s guess.”
“Well, be ready with it.”
“Yes, m’lord.”
Keiler turned his gaze to Wulf. “The idea, Lord Wulf, is to lure a number of the Sandhavener troops away when we attack. We’ll then have a smaller, more confused force to deal with. We will kill a great many of them before the soldiers we trick come back, and then we can take on that force.” Keiler coughed into a blood-spattered handkerchief, then continued. “At least that’s the plan. I don’t expect it to go that way. We’ve planned for several other possibilities.”
“Like what?” asked Wulf.
“What if the gate force is reinforced instead of being weakened? We may have to withdraw then, lead them after us into the woods where the otherfolk will harry them. That way we can live to fight another day.”
“Retreat,” Wulf said.
“We have to avoid being completely destroyed as a fighting force,” Keiler said. “Sometimes there is no other way.”
Wulf nodded. “What else?”
“We wonder what will happen if the draugar you have reported personally generals the battle,” said Washbear in a low voice, as if merely bringing up the creature’s name might draw its attention. “We must be ready to face magic.”
“How do we do that?”
“It will be difficult,” Keiler conceded. “Our best hope would be to isolate that danger, whatever form it may take, and throw everything we have against it.”
“If you know where to find him,” Wulf said. “If he stays there.”
“There are unpredictable drawbacks to this plan,” Washbear said. “We simply do not know what we’re dealing with when it comes to this menace. But thanks to Princess Ravenelle, we now know much more.”
“There isn’t a whole lot in the lore about Draugar Wuten,” Wulf said. “What there is, Ahorn and his people know. They’re as good as any scholar at the university, Tolas has always said.”
“Thank you, m’lord. And yes, Tolas is right,” said Ahorn from across the hall. He was standing near the fire, warming his human torso. He turned and walked back toward them, speaking as he clopped over the flagstone floor. “Since my people have arrived at Bear Hall, we have been practicing our archery. There is a certain sort of arrow that is reported in some ancient texts to be useful against the draug, perhaps fatal.”
“We have to use it, then!”
“Alas, we cannot,” replied the centaur. “We do not have it. It is made of dragon amber. It is known to my people as the Sageata Aur, the Amber Arrow. It is said to reside in the Most Westerly West. Where that might be is up for dispute among the scholars.”
“Is there anything else that might work against a draugar?” asked Esserholz, the beaver man.
Keiler hesitated, then seemed to come to a decision and answered. “We believe Princess Ravenelle may be a weapon we can use against him.”
“What do you mean?”
“We decided we must use her presence here to our advantage. We kidnapped and provided her with a Sandhavener captain to dominate using her Roman ways,” Keiler said. “Not just any captain, either, but the leader of the personal company of the draugar. He has been sent back to Raukenrose, his mind wiped of any knowledge of his own domination.”
“Under the proper circumstance,” Washbear said, “this man might be used as a dagger in the back of the draugar or Prince Trigvi.”
“She must be protected at all costs, then,” said Count Bara. “I will provide her with a personal guard.”
Keiler nodded. “Thank you, Count Bara. That would be welcome.”
“And when do we attack?” asked Aldrich, the fox man. “My people are getting restless with nothing to do but chase rabbits in the forest.”
Keiler nodded gravely. “We must gather more forces and wait as long as we can for—”
“—the gnomes?” said Aldrich. He sniffed contemptuously. “A false hope. They won’t come. That gussied-up charlatan stole a horse and ran away, never to be seen again, I’ll wager. The mud rats only care for themselves. You’ll see. They won’t come.” His voice was filled with doubt.
And maybe something more sinister, Wulf thought. Something dangerously close to treason.
“I gave Master Tolas that horse,” growled Keiler in a low voice. “I’ll thank you to keep your conspiracies to yourself, Manly Aldrich.”
The fox man crinkled his nose and sniffed loudly. He didn’t answer.
“We postpone as long as we can for the gnomes,” Keiler said. “They will be a huge boost to our chance of victory.”
Aldrich pretended to stifle a scornful laugh.
“How long are we to give them, m’lord,” asked Count Bara.
“Two more days.”
“Is that wise? Master Washbear has pointed out that our advantage is that they have remained in their encampment. What if they move inside the town walls?”
“It is a chance I believe we must take,” Keiler replied. “Lord Wulf?”
“You seem very sure of this, Earl Keiler,” Wulf said, trying to keep the doubt he felt from his voice.
“That is because I have seen gnomes make war.”
“Then I agree. Two days.”
Keiler nodded. “Very well. We’ll begin the march in two days and attack at dawn the following morning. The sun will be at our backs,” he said. “That will make only eleven days from the fall of the township. I know it seems both a long time—and also too short a time, in its way—to hold off. Yet I still hope to catch the Sandhaveners by surprise and kill a great many before they know what hit them.” Keiler had a coughing spasm, then tried to continue as if nothing had happened, although Wulf could see he was trembling. “We will use both centaur and fox-man, er, smallwolf, archers on our right and left flanks. This will be more than harassment. Our middle may remain weaker than their force, even if it is smaller. But if they push us back, they’ll be walking into crossfire.”
“At least that is the plan,” Ahorn said. “We have come with a great many arrows, and are preparing more.”
“And we smallwolf have our crossbows,” said Aldrich.
“Then, by the will and might of the Allfather,” Keiler said, “we will destroy the invaders.”
And if we don’t? Rather than voicing his doubt, Wulf only thought it.
There are so many of them. We gain more every day, but we are still so few. And we cannot wait any longer.
He thought of Anya. His family.
Saeunn.
Whatever the tactics and strategy, his goal was always the same.
Rescue his friends and family.
Or die trying.
But there was something he had to do first. He hadn’t believed it when the feeling had returned, but now he was certain.
The dragon was calling him once again.
The Gray Elf
It was late afternoon of the next day when Wulf finished the travel from Bear Hall and climbed the eastern side of the valley to Raven Rock. It had been a good ride through the Shwartzwald Forest. The day before, the war council had made its plan. He’d felt at ease. Ready.
Now, suddenly, he did not.
A lot depended on what would happen over the next few days.
Otto was dead.
Ravenelle had used the new celestis to delve into the mind of the brother of the Sandhaven deserter. There wasn’t any doubt about it.
And the deserter himself had brought news of Adelbert’s death.
Two brothers in a week. It was almost overwhelming. Would have been, but he needed to keep going.
They knew much more about what the Sandhaveners were doing in Raukenrose.
The deserter had been a Sandhavener officer. He’d felt betrayed by his king into mental slavery. Something had gone wrong when he’d been issued the new black-colored celestis, the ater-cake. His mind had been nearly burned to a crisp by the draugar.
But he hadn’t died. Instead, Ravenelle had saved him. Whatever she’d done, the Sandhavener was now completely devoted to her.
And found out his captain was the leader of the elite force from the Nesties, the Hundred.
The mission had been to capture or kill the Hundred captain. They had captured him. And released him to go back to the castle.
Otto was dead.
Adelbert, too.
And I am in a murderous frame of mind, Wulf thought.
I don’t care about recapturing the town. I don’t care about an old relic.
I want to kill Sandhaveners. Personally.
He knew he needed perspective. Knowing was a lot different than getting though.
The dragon never showed you things you wanted to see. It showed you what it wanted you to know.
He had to try.
He had to stop his bloody circle of thoughts.
He had to get over it.
Because he was never going to be able to actually kill Sandhaveners until he did.
Which set him to thinking about killing them all over again.
Raven Rock overlooked both Bear Valley and Raukenrose. It was supposed to be a place where a portion of the land-dragon surfaced. It would be a good place to come if the dragon was calling.
Suddenly, though, the dragon wasn’t calling. The feeling had grown weaker, at least. Had he been imagining it before? No. There had been no doubt. Until now.
The rocky overlook marked the northern end of Bear Valley. Below him, the “army” of Shenandoah was camping. Tomorrow they would finish the march on Raukenrose and then attack the following dawn.
At least, that was the plan.
Raven Rock was shale. It was made of huge slabs jutting along a ridge at a steep angle. The path to the overlook led between these jutting slabs. Buzzards nested along the way, and Wulf was careful to avoid them. Buzzards could make a brutal assault when they thought their hatchlings were threatened.
At the end was the highest slab stabbing up into the sky. The path wound along behind this, ending where the rock slope began. A hundred paces up the angled rock was the summit, Raven Rock, with a view of Bear Valley to the west and the Shenandoah Valley and Raukenrose to the east. The slab was just level enough to climb up the rock without having to crawl on hands and knees.
Wulf used a trick that Rainer had taught him while they were rock climbing steep slopes in the mountains outside Kohlsted. The method was to keep your weight over your feet. But to do that you had to lean back, way back. This felt very wrong and possibly fatal. Nagel soon had enough and flew off to find a perch at the base of the rock.
But the technique worked.
When Wulf got to the top, the rock flattened. The summit was a spot where three people could stand if they crowded close. Wulf was alone.
The late afternoon sky was blue with fluffy white clouds. There was a light breeze and it was warm enough that he’d left his new cape at the base of the rock with Grim.
Raven Rock was supposed to be connected to the sleeping dragon below.
But it wasn’t working. He touched the rock. He lay down on the rock. He tried to use his dagger to make a connection—the dagger Grer Smead had made him to replace the other that got stuck in the Olden Oak. No good. Nothing.
I’m fooling myself. The dragon calls you, you don’t call it.
Twilight came, and a sliver of moon rose. It was getting colder. He regretted that he’d left his cape below with Grim.
Otto. Adelbert. Kill the cursed scum. Kill them.
And the thoughts started over again.
He was also getting a very sore butt. The top of the rock was flat, but that didn’t mean it was smooth. There wasn’t anywhere to sit that wasn’t on some bump or another.
“You have good reason to want them all dead.”
“I know. But I can’t let it control me. Besides, it’s my fault. I started it all by stabbing Gunnar.”
“Oh, I doubt that you were the first cause of anything.”
Wulf snapped back to attention. Had he dozed off? Had he been dreaming?
An elf was sitting across from him.
The elf had the elegant elven face that seemed forever young. Even in the twilight, Wulf could see that his hair was gray. His eyes were the same light gray as his hair.
He wore a cloak of buffalo fur loosely around his shoulders, but it had either been bleached or it was from a rare white buffalo. His other clothing, pants and a simple shirt, was gray wool. His boots were black, the only dark color on him.
“Hello,” the elf said.
Wulf called out in alarm. But there was no answer from below.
“They won’t be able to hear you. Don’t be upset. We don’t mean any harm. We won’t be long.”
“What are you doing here?”
“Passing through. We try to come by this place when we’re nearby.”
“Who is ‘we’?”
“My company.”
He motioned down the rock slope at nothing. But then shapes seemed to grow out of the Raven Rock surface. They took the shape of cloaked figures. Then they sat back down and they were just rocky shapes once more.
“The Gray Company. I’m called Eifer. I think you must be Wulfgang.”
“How did you know that?”
“The dragon dreams. You are someone who shares them. So am I.”
Wulf hesitated. But what was the use of lying?
“All right, yes. My name is Wulf.”
“And since nobody but a von Dunstig male would do that around here, you must either be the duke or one of his sons. You are not the oldest. Otto is in his late twenties, and you are clearly younger. I have met Adelbert—”
Wulf cut in. “You’ve met my brother? When? Where?”
“It was on a ship in the Chesapeake. A story for another time.”
“I want to hear it.”
“He may tell you himself.”
“He’s dead.”
Eifer reached up and touched his own forehead with his fingertips. Then he touched his heart. He gazed into his own palm for a moment. He seemed not so much sad as puzzled. “I am very sorry to hear that,” he finally said. “Adelbert was a good man.” The elf looked back at Wulf. “You aren’t Adelbert or the duke. That’s why I know you’re Wulfgang.”
“You know me, but I’ve never heard of you.”
“We are passing through. Headed for my kin in Eounnbard.”
“The Smoke Elves?”
“Yes.”
“Why are you here?”
“This rock? The same reason as you, Wulf. It’s a gate into the dragon’s dreams.”
“The dragon isn’t showing me any dreams. I’ve been here all day.”
Eifer ran a hand over his smooth chin. “I wouldn’t be so sure,” he said. He gazed at Wulf for a moment. “There are all kinds of dreams.” He seemed to be considering somethi
ng.
“What?” said Wulf.
“My company can’t go into battle with you tomorrow,” the elf said. “I wish we could, but we are genuinely needed in the south.”
“I don’t expect you to join us.”
“I can give you something, though. I will.”
He took a pendant on a metal chain from around his neck. The chain looked like steel. The pendant was a stone. It was brownish-black, flecked with white bits. It was small enough to fit into the elf’s palm.
“What is it?”
“A piece of a fallen star, Wulf.”
“It’s some kind of magical talisman or something?”
“No. It isn’t magic. Not in the way you mean. It is just a piece of star.”
“That sounds pretty useless.”
“You might be surprised. It’s a star stone. A meteorite. Will you take it?”
“Why?”
“Why not, Wulfgang?”
Wulf took the stone on the chain in his palm. He ran his finger over its pitted surface.
“I guess it can’t hurt,” he said.
“Lean forward a bit.” Wulf did. The elf took the chain back from him and draped the necklace over Wulf’s head. The star stone rested on Wulf’s chest.
Wulf looked down at the stone, then past it to the moon-traced bumps of Raven Rock.
The stone in his hand changed. Its surface cleared. He could look through the stone at the rock below him.
It was as if Raven Rock was the surface of a clear lake. If he held his vision one way, he could see the rock bumps and cracks like still waves on a still lake. Now he concentrated on looking below the surface, and the waves disappeared. The layers stripped themselves away, pulling back and disappearing.
He was seeing inside the Earth. Deeper and deeper. And it was—
Dragons. Thousands and thousands of them. Dragons were wound about one another, clamped tightly together. And even though he saw heads and tails and bodies, it was hard to tell where one stopped and another began.
“There must be…there are so many of them.”
“Some little, some big,” said Eifer.
The dragons seemed chaotic, all twisted together in many sorts of ways. But there were patterns within the confusion that seemed to almost come together in Wulf’s mind, and then everything seemed chaos again, a compressed, round clump of dragons.
