The Stricken Field - A Handful of Men Book 3

by Dave Duncan

  There had been no opportunity for escape, and she could not hope for any now.

  The orchard was to be the command post and was already full of goblins. Several of the trees had been lopped off and a platform built upon them to provide a lookout. Death Bird had yielded to his son’s hysterical pleading and agreed that he might join in the assault instead of being held in the rear. The king himself was going to lead the first charge. To Kadie it all seemed very much like a suicidal last stand.

  Death Bird had detailed a half-dozen men to guard her. They stood around her, sulking mightily, and glaring at her from their hideously angular eyes. They felt slighted, obviously, and she was convinced that they would cut her throat as soon as the battle began, so that they could go and join in. The one thing no goblin wanted was the shame of being taken prisoner.

  She had eaten nothing the previous evening. Allena the Mare had disappeared, and had almost certainly provided the skimpy provisions she had seen handed around. Somehow Kadie resented that more than almost anything. How could they be so cruel?

  Then Blood Beak came striding through the trees. He had his bow already strung in his hand, sword and quiver slung on his shoulders. A shapeless piece of raw flesh dangled in the center of his bare chest; it had dribbled blood all over him.

  “Is almost time!” He bared his big teeth at her.

  She cowered smaller, feeling the stones of the wall cold through her cloak. ”Good-bye, then.” She still had her magic rapier.

  “Come! Will watch from lookout.”

  He was trembling with excitement. He would drag her there if she refused. Reluctantly she rose. The surly guards closed in around her, and they all headed off through the trees.

  There was no proper ladder, only a log with a few stumps of branches still attached. She clambered up, awkward in her long cloak and anxious not to trip over her sword, following Blood Beak. The uneven nest on top was already packed with chiefs, creaking under their weight. She found a place to sit, aware that her guards could see her and were waiting underneath.

  The sky was blue already, with a burning wound in the northeast showing where the sun was about to rise in molten gold. A lark sang its heart out far overhead, and lesser songsters whistled and chirruped in the trees. She had never heard birdsong like that in Krasnegar. It was a beautiful day to die.

  “Are coming!” a man hidden from her proclaimed. She recognized the king’s voice. The legions did seem closer, a wall of men and bronze, advancing slowly.

  If I am to be rescued, then now is the moment, she thought, but her childish ideas of rescues seemed very foolish now. She was not going to be rescued. She was going to be killed by the goblins long before the imps arrived. As soon as Death Bird left, probably. Her parents would never know what had happened to her. She would never know what had happened to them, or Gath, either. If Gath was here, he could tell her what was going to happen. Of course she was glad Gath was not here—but it would be nice to have someone.

  An edge of burning bronze broke over the horizon like a trumpet call. There was not a cloud in the sky, not even smoke. She shivered with cold and fear and lack of sleep. Still the birds sang. Death was a long sleep, but she wished she could have lived longer. She had not had time to collect very much good for the Gods to find when they weighed her soul. “Nothing here at all, ” They would say . . .

  A pair of bare legs ‘came into view, then Blood Beak knelt down on the adjacent log, balancing precariously. He leered at her, his eyes full of madness.

  “Kill many, many imps!” He had to raise his voice over the raucous babbling of the chiefs behind him. Their bragging and boasting were just bluster to hide nervousness.

  “You’re outnumbered,” she said. She was not sure, but it seemed likely, and his scowl confirmed it.

  “No matter numbers! Better men. Better killers.”

  She sighed. “Good luck. At times I almost came to like you, Blood Beak.”

  His eyes flashed within their tattoos. “Tonight will bed you!”

  “Tonight will bury you.”

  She turned away and blinked at the glare. The sun was above the skyline now. To the north the Imperial Army glittered. If she watched carefully, she could make out its creeping advance, a fiery tide slowly engulfing cottages, copses, walls, coming on remorselessly like a breaker entering Wide Bay at Krasnegar.

  Off to one side lay the river. It was not far away—a few minutes’ ride on a good horse—and she would be safe if she could only somehow move herself to that far bank. She noticed then that the far bank was already crowded. A multitude of imps had come to watch the battle. They blackened every tree, every wall, every vantage point. Ghouls!

  A sudden silence alerted her. The chatter around her had died away, although the murmur of the waiting army beneath was still rumbling like the sea. Men were turning around, moving cautiously on the unsteady footing. Everyone was staring south, and up. Kadie scrambled up to her knees, and took a firm grip on a stub of branch. A cloud? Birds?

  Why should everyone be staring at birds? Had they never seen a flock of gulls before? Then she heard another sound, a very low note, surf far off. The birds were approaching steadily, not wheeling around as gulls did. They were moving awfully slowly, so they must be awfully high. Then how could she see them? And why did they glitter like that?

  “Dragons!” someone said in a whisper. It might have been Death Bird himself.

  Nonsense! She turned for a glance at the legions. They were almost close enough to make out individual men now, and they had stopped coming. The cavalry had drawn out in front, and the horses seemed to be giving a lot of trouble. She checked the spectators across the river, who were closer. No, they weren’t! They were in full flight. The trees were bare.

  “Dragons!” The mutters grew louder. The horde below the platform had noticed, also, and its mutter had stilled. The lark had fallen silent. There was only that sinister low rumble from the sky.

  Yes, dragons! Oh, Gods be merciful! So the river would not offer safe refuge at all, and the spectators would die, also. Dragons rarely took out less than a county, even when there were only one or two of them.

  “Metal,” a voice nearby said, uncertainly. “Must throw away metal.” Nobody answered. Nobody moved. How could a man throw away his weapons when an enemy army was almost within range?

  The flock was closer now, the shivery deep note recognizable as the beat of innumerable huge wings, all blended into one like the sound of raindrops becoming the single roar of a storm. Kadie’s heart drummed painfully in her chest. Dragons! The stories she had heard and all the books she had read had rarely ever mentioned more than one dragon, two at the most, and there must be hundreds up there. They were almost directly overhead now, a spray of glittering sparks. Like diamonds in sunlight red and blue and white. Blaze, she remembered. Not a flock of dragons, a blaze of dragons. She had thought that dragons were almost extinct. She had never guessed there could still be so many left in the world.

  Her neck was growing sore with staring straight up. She glanced at the river, and the far bank was completely deserted now. But the chiefs beside her were beginning to mutter again, making unbelieving sounds of hope. The dragons were passing overhead, high as clouds, but not changing their flight. They were going to fly on, not stop to attack, fly right over the goblin horde—to where?

  Then there was change. The blaze seemed to slow its advance, seemed to grow brighter. They were coming!

  A torrent of rainbow light poured down. Like a shower of jewels, the blaze fell from the sky. It was so beautiful to watch that she had no time for fear. Nobody had seen this in hundreds of years, a blaze of dragons stooping! She could make out individuals now, big ones, small ones. The big ones were in the lead, glittering monsters with outspread wings, and the lesser dragons followed like a shower of glittering dust. Some of them must be huge, bigger than any ship she had ever seen, big as houses. Still they fell, still they grew larger, spiraling down from the sky. Almost she thought she
could feel heat from them, even at this distance. They were spreading out in a vee, the foremost heading for the Imperial center, the laggards aiming for the flanks.

  And they were not stooping on the goblins—they were heading for the Imperial legions. The dragons had come to rescue the goblins!

  She scrambled to her feet, wobbling on the log, heedless of the risk of falling. All around her the goblins’ voices were growing louder in a steady growl of astonishment that seemed to contain no words and grew rapidly into a roar of excitement. The dragons were attacking the legions!

  “Are saved!” Blood Beak screamed. “See imps run!” The wall of bronze had broken. Maddened horses wheeled everywhere in wild disorder and foot soldiers scattered like chaff. Some were even running toward the goblins.

  The lead worms impacted the center of the line. Dust and smoke billowed out from the ground as the great wings slowed their fall. Flame erupted from grass and trees. More and more dragons followed, two showers now, until a great sheet of flame engulfed the whole Imperial Army; wind roared and smoke billowed. Still more dragons descended into the holocaust. Faint screaming told of death agonies as men were burned or eaten.

  Refugees came fleeing out of the smoke, racing for the goblin horde, and dragons flashed in pursuit, worms of fire streaking over the ground faster than racehorses. The baby latecomers came straight down on some of the fugitives. Kadie knew she was screaming, and could not hear herself over the deafening cheers of the goblins. She watched men being run down, flattened, engulfed. She saw stony dragon jaws seize them as dogs would seize rats, lifting them high to gulp them down. Usually they exploded in clouds of bloody steam before they were even swallowed. Terrified men fled across the smoking meadows, being chased by dragons of all sizes—some longer than longships, others no bigger than ponies. The little ones glowed a dull red, but the giants had a blue-white glare that hurt the eyes.

  Yet there seemed to be an invisible fence halfway between the opposing armies. Dragons that had caught their prey wheeled around to return to the flaming center, ignoring the feast of goblin swords beyond. A very few legionaries managed to reach that occult border and cross into safety. Their pursuers turned back as if forbidden to come farther. The fugitives continued to run until goblin arrows cut them down.

  The legions had disappeared, houses and trees had vanished, and there was nothing left to burn. Air shimmered above a fiery welter of dragons where the Imperial Army had stood. In the farther distance, the little town was a roaring inferno, already almost consumed. Whoever had sent these monsters was on the goblins’ side, and the goblins were screaming themselves hoarse with excitement as they watched.

  There was nothing left. Now what?

  Now withdrawal. A white—hot dragon as big as a temple thundered over the ground with wings beating up clouds of flying ash. It launched itself into the air, heading straight for the goblins. The cheering stopped. Others followed it. Shivers of terror ran through the watchers, but they had no time to run before it became obvious that there would be no attack. The lead monster continued its painful climb, fighting its way up the sky. It passed over the goblins too high for a bow shot, had anyone been crazy enough to try, but even at that height, blasts of scorching air beat down from its wings. One after another, the rest of the blaze followed it. The charred and empty land they left glowed faintly red.

  This was wrong! Something Kadie could recall reading long ago had said that once dragons had tasted metal they would ravage the countryside for days afterward. Perhaps the book had been mistaken, because all dragon lore must be very old, or perhaps someone held these particular worms under very tight control.

  Still gaining height, the monsters streamed southward. The heat of their passing was like a potter’s kiln or the face of the sun. Far below them, sweating goblins were cheering again. Already the lead monsters were almost lost to sight in the far, high distance.

  Then the cheering faltered. The smaller dragons were obviously more nimble in the air, and one last youngster broke out of formation. As if sensing the banquet of swords and arrowheads waiting below, it came spiraling downwarily, like a puppy approaching a strange cat. Goblins in its path screamed and fled. It was little bigger than a sheep, its scales glowing dull maroon and dirty orange, the colors of a smith’s forge, but even one baby dragon could scatter an army. It sank below treetop height, wings thundering as it tried to hover, snaky neck twisting around, jeweled eyes gleaming this way and that. It seemed puzzled, or perhaps it had arrived too late for the feast and been cheated of its share and was still hungry. The meadow below caught fire, smoke streamed out in the blast. Then the monster changed its mind, or heard a call. It flapped harder, gained height again, and streaked off in pursuit of its fiery relations. Cheering broke out once more.

  The ruins of the town still burned, but of the Imperial Army nothing remained at all on the smoking black wasteland where the blaze had ravaged.

  Death Bird began making a speech, screaming gutturally to his horde and waving his arms. The cheering kept drowning him out. The chiefs were embracing one another, almost dancing, making the platform rock and creak alarmingly. Kadie sat down and straddled the log she had been standing on. She felt sick. She was still alive. Thousands of men had been charred to nothing before her eyes and she was still alive.

  Blood Beak knelt to speak to her, teeth showing in a ferocious mad grin. ”Can hear?” he said. “Are going home! Sorcery on our side! Wardens help! Going back to taiga!”

  “It’s a long way to the taiga yet.”

  He leered. “Marry you tonight! Waited too long.”

  She turned away. He grabbed her chin and twisted her head around, thrusting his head so close to hers that she could see every black dot in his tattoos and the wispy hairs around his mouth and even the shiny drops of sweat on his forehead. “Will have you tonight!” he said furiously. “No magic sword tonight! Will tame Krasnegar girl tonight!”

  “No, you won’t.”

  His glee made his lips curl back, revealing his tusks. “Good, good! Enjoy struggle!”

  “You’re leaving,” Kadie said. She felt quite calm, almost sad. It was all over. “You’re leaving. You have to leave. There’s no food here. You must find a way across that river, to somewhere you can loot, right? And I can’t come. I have no horse now.”

  His face darkened, confirming what she had suspected about poor Allena. The horde would start to move as soon as the king had finished his speech. She could not follow. “Run!” Blood Beak said menacingly.

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “Will have men carry you.”

  Breaking free of his grip, she tossed her head angrily. “That’s pretty stupid, too, isn’t it? What will you offer them? Do you plan to let them join in the wedding celebration?”

  He flushed olive, furious. Obviously he could see no solution, either. ”Then do it now and leave you!”

  Which is what she had been expecting him to say. The goblins were saved, but Kadie was not. Fear was a sick throbbing in her stomach.

  Death Bird had finished his oration. The platform rocked and bounced as the chiefs scrambled down to the ground. Blood Beak jumped up to intercept his father, doubtless planning to explain the Kadie problem.

  He never even began. Something hid the sun. Men screamed. She looked up in time to see an enormous blackness in the air above her. She recoiled in amazement and lost her grip and . . .

  6

  “It’s the legions!” Rap sobbed. “He’s set them on the legions! Oh, Gods, Gods!”

  Pain and terror flooded the ambience in lurid color, burning nerves, crushing senses. A ship full of sorcerers, Dreadnaught rang like a bell. Anthropophagi had become screaming madmen. Trolls howled like dogs.

  “The legions?” Jalon grabbed the wheel Rap had released. “Why would he do that?”

  But Rap could spare no thought for the mundane minstrel. He stumbled to his knees with the effort of wrestling, reasoning, shouting in the ambience, struggling to
control his pitiful little army before it rushed into futile rescue. If just one sorcerer broke away and was captured in consequence, then all would be betrayed. Waves of maddening pain poured out from Bandor Field. Five legions! Five times five thousand deaths.

  Why? Just to demonstrate the Covin’s power for the benefit of the sorcerers of Pandemia?

  “You all right, Rap?” Jalon asked, kneeling down beside him and laying a cool hand on his sweaty brow. Rap unrolled. He was conscious of a bitten tongue, and the hard planks of the deck under his back, still cold from the night. He stared up at the concerned jotunn face above him, the blue eyes an exact match for the early-morning sky behind, so that a fanciful man might assume the minstrel had two holes through his head and the sky was smiling through . . .

  “Yes,” he mumbled. “Yes, I’m all right.”

  The battle was over, the suffering had ended. No one on Dreadnaught had broken ranks.

  “It’s done?” the minstrel asked, helping him sit up. “It’s done. The legions are dead. The worms are heading home.” Every muscle shivered independently.

  Five times five thousand men . . . for what? But at least the Covin had held the blaze together and prevented widespread disaster. The power required for that was appalling—which was why it had been done, of course.