Draconian Measures

by Don Perrin

  “Are you all right, sir?” one of the baaz gasped.

  The four bearers bent over him. Two began attempting to raise him to his feet, while two argued that he shouldn’t be moved. Other draconian soldiers crowded near, offering their own helpful advice.

  Slith appeared out of nowhere. “Give him some room, you men. I’ll take care of the commander from here. Move!” he yelled.

  The soldiers departed at once, running to catch up with the long column that was marching past. The litter bearers lingered, wanting to help, but Slith waved them on.

  “How are you feeling, sir?” Slith asked, squatting down beside Kang. “Can you sit up?”

  “Yes, I can bloody well sit up!” Kang snarled.

  He didn’t like anyone fussing over him. He not only intended to sit up, but to stand up as well. Unfortunately, he was forced to reconsider that notion when his head continued to float and his legs let him down completely.

  “Don’t take it too fast, sir,” Slith advised. “You’ve been chewed up and spit out.”

  Kang’s left shoulder was bandaged. Another bandage was wrapped around his thigh. He twisted his head to try to see why his back hurt.

  “One of the slime got you from behind, sir,” Slith said. “Just missed the spine.”

  Kang had never even felt that one. Squinting his eyes against the blazing sun, he watched the long column of draconians march past where he and Slith sat by the roadside. The head of the column snaked through a pass cut between two hills. Kang had never seen so many draconians, not since the War of the Lance. Where had they come from? How had so many survived for so long? He had been thinking he had dreamed them, but these draconians looked pretty darn real.

  “You remember anything, sir?” Slith asked.

  Kang nodded, as much to clear his head as to acknowledge Slith’s question. “I remember the last onslaught of gobbos, and then the right flank charge. I remember wanting to know who ordered that charge because I hadn’t and there was going to be hell to pay.”

  “There was hell to pay.” Slith grinned. “Hell for the gobbos. That was the Ninth Infantry that came in on the right flank. Eleven hundred of them. Five hundred more from the Third Infantry backed them up.”

  Kang watched the stranger draconians marching past. They wore leather jerkins embedded with studded armor plates and carried large swords and shields on their backs. Yes, they were draconian infantry, as he remembered them. But he hadn’t seen draconian infantry for over thirty years. He thought back to the Chaos War, to the last army the engineers had joined. That army had been made up of humans, Dark Knights of Takhisis they called themselves. No draconians, other than his regiment.

  “Where did they come from—Fonrar,” Kang said suddenly, memory returning. “Fonrar brought them. She and Thesik. But how—”

  “The females saw flashes of metal down in the canyon. Fonrar and Thesik went to investigate, sir.”

  “I remember now.” Kang smiled grimly. “They didn’t tell anyone because I don’t listen to them.” He rested his aching head in his hands. “I try, Slith. I really try!”

  “Yes, sir.” Slith was sympathetic. “It’s tough being a father, sir. Or so I’ve heard.” He cleared his throat. “The females saw flashes of light and went down into the canyon on the other side of the ridge. They ran into a draconian patrol, who had spotted our signal fire and gone out to investigate. The draconians almost attacked, but once they got a look at Thesik, they couldn’t do enough for her.”

  “Why Thesik?” Kang was confused.

  “She’s an aurak, sir,” Slith said. He waved a hand at the passing draconians. “They’re all scared to death of her. Or should I say him.” He winked.

  “These other dracos don’t know they’re females?” Kang asked in a low voice.

  “No, sir. I figured you’d be the one to decide if and when we passed on that bit of information. The other dracos noticed that the females were different—they aren’t wearing armor, for instance, and they have their own separate unit. Wasn’t much I could do about that. But I made up some mumbo jumbo about them being a special guard for the aurak. Fortunately,” Slith continued, “our females aren’t like the females of the Soft-skins. The anatomical differences are not that noticeable, if you take my meaning. But the differences are there and they’ll be spotted soon enough. The females are shorter and”—he shrugged—“they smell funny.”

  “They do?” Kang was startled. “I never noticed that.”

  “We’ve been around them too much, I guess. But these boys picked it up right off. One of the baaz asked Fonrar about it.”

  “What’d she say?” Kang asked worriedly.

  “She’s got a good head on her shoulders. She said she smelled strange to him because she came from the south of Krynn, whereas he came from the north. Pretty lame, but the baaz bought it. If one draco noticed, though, others will, too. Others smarter than the baaz. I’ve ordered the females to keep to the rear, back with the supply wagons. And I’ve ordered them to stay away from the new dracos.” Slith looked uncomfortable. “They wanted to know why. I think you should talk to them, sir. We’ve … uh … never really gone into … you know. Females and eggs and … uh … all that.”

  Kang frowned. “The females didn’t say anything about that, did they?”

  “Well, no, sir, but—”

  “Then we will not mention it.” Kang was stern. “Is that understood? They’re just children, after all.”

  “Yes, sir.” Slith looked back out at the column of marching draconians. His wings twitched, a sign that he disagreed with his commander but knew better than to argue.

  “What do you know about these troops, Slith?” Kang asked in a conciliatory tone. “Where do they come from? I thought most of our people died when Neraka blew up.”

  “There were more survivors than we heard, apparently, sir.” Slith was never one to stay angry long. “When the War of the Lance ended, those who had survived the Neraka disaster fled east to hide out in these mountains. A few joined the Dark Knights and fought during the Chaos War, but most thought better of it. These dracos are like us, sir. They’ve had their fill of human commanders, who either considered them disposable and assigned them to all the suicide missions or treated them worse than pack animals.”

  Yes, Kang could understand that. He and his engineers had signed on with a human army, proud to lend their skills and talents. They’d been ordered to dig crap holes.

  As Slith was speaking, the command group came marching over the rise, near the end of the column. Ahead of the officers were three standard bearers, each carrying a different banner. The first was the banner of the Ninth Infantry, the second the banner of Third Infantry and the third was Kang’s own banner, the First Engineers. When Granak saw Kang, he hoisted the Engineer banners high, higher than the banners of the other two regiments.

  The sight of the three banners once more flying together, his own highest among them, was exhilarating. Thinking how near they’d come to total annihilation, Kang struggled to regain his feet.

  “Are you sure you can make it, sir?” Slith asked worriedly, assisting his commander, who was still wobbly and weak.

  “I can make it,” Kang said. If he died in the attempt, he would salute his flag.

  The other draconian officers, seeing Kang conscious and standing upright, came over to meet him.

  Prokel, the kapak subcommander of the Ninth Infantry, saluted, and then turned to introduce the other draconians with him.

  “Sir, may I present the commander of the Ninth Infantry, Vertax, and Yakanoh, the commander of the Third Infantry.”

  Both draconians extended their hands, and Kang shook each hand in turn. He then introduced Slith, his subcommander.

  “Do you feel up to marching with us, Kang?” Yakanoh asked.

  Kang nodded. “I’d be honored, sir.”

  Technically, Kang held the same rank as Prokel, the subcommander of the Ninth Infantry. An infantry regimental commander outranked a specialis
t unit commander, however, due to the fact that an infantry regiment had, at full strength, fifteen hundred warriors. An engineer regiment, supply regiment or even a field artillery regiment had at most three hundred.

  “We don’t stand on ceremony here, Kang,” Vertax said. “All senior officers call each other by name. We remain separate from the junior officers and from the ranks, of course. Still, after you’ve lived and fought together for forty years, the ‘sir’ part starts to get a little old.”

  There wasn’t much Kang could say, so he kept silent as he took his place behind the standard. He and Slith were the only senior officers in their regiment and had been for nigh on thirty years. Kang’s leg wound was stiffening, causing him to limp, but walking felt good, warmed his blood. Slith broke apart the poles that had formed the battle-field litter and fashioned one of them into a crude walking stick, which he handed to his commander. Kang noted that the other draconian officers politely slowed their pace to accommodate him.

  “I don’t want to slow you up,” Kang said.

  “It is an honor, Kang, to match our pace with so gallant a warrior,” Prokel said gravely.

  “We saw the numbers you were prepared to face,” Vertax added.

  “Better still,’ said Yakanoh, grinning, “we saw the bodies of all those slimy gobbos you killed. A remarkable feat, considering how few of you there were.”

  “If it hadn’t been for you, there would have been a lot fewer,” Kang said fervently. “I have to thank you, both of you,” he added, indicating the two Infantry regiment commanders, “for saving our hides. Another ten minutes, and you would have found two engineers, not two hundred.”

  Slith interrupted. “The number is one hundred sixty-seven, all ranks, sir.”

  Kang stared at Slith. “Lady of the Abyss!” He shook his head, the warmth gone out of the sunshine. The battle had cost the regiment a quarter of the men they had.

  “We’ve all been wondering, sir,” Vertax asked. “Why were the gobbos after you?”

  “Damned if I know,” Kang said.

  “Did you raid one of their villages?”

  “No, and even if we had, you know gobbos. They would have made a few sneak attacks, stabbed a few of us in the back, and then gone on their way satisfied. These gobbos were different. These bastards didn’t know when to quit.” Kang told his tale of his year-long running battle.

  “Well, you obviously did something to make them mad,” Yakanoh said, as he looked at Kang intently.

  Kang paused to readjust the bandage on his leg, giving himself the opportunity to avoid meeting the eyes of his fellow officers. When he was finished, he exchanged covert glances with Slith, who very slightly shrugged.

  Kang turned to Vertax. “My subcommander tells me that you and your two command groups have been living up here in the hills ever since Neraka?”

  “Effectively, yes, although there are more than two regiments. We also have the Second and Fourteenth Infantry, the Third Artillery and Belkrad’s Reconnaissance Squadron with us. They’re almost at full strength. General Maranta commands the army.”

  Slith groaned. He looked stricken. “Not the General Maranta, sir! The aurak general?”

  “Yes, of course,” Vertax replied. “He was the only draconian ever to be promoted to the rank of General. Why, do you know him?”

  Slith’s scales clicked nervously. He ducked his head.

  “You might say that, sir,” he mumbled. He looked at Kang. “You remember, sir? The stockades … That little incident …”

  Kang thought back. “The stockades …” Memory returned and he began to laugh. “Oh, that incident.”

  Slith groaned again and shook his head.

  Vertax nudged Kang. “Go on, tell us!”

  Kang grinned. “General Maranta was doing a tour of Lord Ariakas’s army in the field. Subcommander Slith had killed a beautiful elf maid earlier that day. He’d taken the pointy-eared floozy’s form during the battle—you know how sivaks operate—and he was still in that form when General Maranta strolled into the Regimental rear area. The general sees a beautiful elf maid doing a little dance to entertain the troops. Maranta orders his bodyguard to bring ‘the elf maid’ to his tent for ‘interrogation.’ ”

  Prokel began to chuckle. “Let me guess. The general wanted to ensure that this elf maiden didn’t have any concealed weapons on her lovely person, right?”

  Slith’s scales clicked loudly, sounding like a plague of swarming locusts. “Yes, that’s about it,” he said hurriedly.

  “Well, not quite,” Kang said with a wink. “Let’s just say that General Maranta got quite a surprise during his search.”

  “Please, sirs.” Slith’s usual silver-green color had deepened to the shade of a pine forest in midwinter. “It wasn’t funny! I spent two months in the stockade over that!”

  “I’m sure the general will be very glad to make your acquaintance again, Mistress Pointy-ear,” said Prokel. “Maybe ask you to do a little dance …”

  Seeing that the jokes were only going to continue, and probably get worse, Slith said stiffly, “I think I should go check on the supply wagons and the wounded. With your permission, sir.”

  “Permission granted, you cute little elf wench, you,” Kang said.

  Slith saluted sullenly and, with an aggrieved expression, departed, his tail twitching in irritation.

  “We’re only a two hour march from our fortress,” Vertax remarked, when the laughter had died down. “I think you’ll be impressed, Kang, with what we’ve been able to do out here in the wilderness.”

  “I’m already impressed,” Kang said. “I have to admit that I was extremely surprised to find more of our people alive after so many years. I was beginning to think we were all there were.”

  All one hundred and sixty-seven of us, he said to himself, and his cheerful mood evaporated. There had been over three hundred draconians in their home in the Kharolis Mountains, before they had headed north over a year ago. Kang fell silent, no longer joined in the laughter or the conversation. The others left him alone, figuring, perhaps, that his wounds pained him.

  * * * * *

  The column continued on at a march for another two hours. Climbing over a bluff, Kang looked down into the small valley. The other officers came to halt. They all turned, watching him expectantly, waiting to see his expression.

  “That’s our fortress,” said Vertax, waving his hand proudly.

  “It is?” Kang said. He was so astonished, he spoke before he thought. “What happened to it?”

  “What did you say?” Vertax moved closer to hear over the clank and rattle of the column passing by. “I didn’t catch what you said.”

  Kang came to the sudden realization that he was not looking on the site of a natural disaster. Or perhaps he was, but the disaster wasn’t natural. Someone had worked at it.

  “I said …” Kang gulped. “That’s quite a fort, sir. Quite a fort.”

  Kang exchanged glances with Slith, who had returned to report that the supply wagons, the wounded and the “special unit” were fine, just slow-moving. The sivak rolled his eyes and changed whatever he had been going to say into a cough.

  The structure—Kang hated to dignify it with the term fortress—was a quarter-mile square. It was completely surrounded by a tall curtain wall made of wood. Every so often, at irregular intervals, some sort of odd-looking protrusion thrust up from the wall. Kang spent several moments trying to figure out what these protrusions were, eventually decided that they were meant to be watchtowers. Two tilted perilously and a third was actually propped up with poles or it would have tumbled down.

  The curtain wall was broken—operative word—in two places by gates to the south and west. Made from timbers sharpened to a point at the top, the wall had evidently been built in sections of thirty feet in length and then assembled. The result was that no two sections were the same height, same construction or even the same design. He’d seen goblin teeth that were straighter, albeit in a similar state of
decay.

  In the center of the encampment stood one large building. That single large building was surrounded by a jumble of smaller buildings that had apparently been thrown up whenever and wherever, according to the whim of their makers. Dirt streets curled among them like a goblin’s entrails. All the structures, with the exception of the massive building in the center, were constructed of wood with thatched roofs made of straw. A single spark would start a blaze that would make a red dragon proud. By the looks of one large charred and blackened area near the curtain wall, one structure had already gone up in flames.

  The other officers were waiting for his reaction, waiting for him to express wonder and admiration. Kang could manage the wonder. He wondered how this mess remained standing.

  “What do you think?” asked Vertax.

  “It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before,” Kang said and that was the gods’ honest truth.

  Slith coughed again. “Sorry, sirs. Dust in my throat.”

  Vertax saw their carefully manufactured expressions and began to laugh.

  “Don’t worry, Kang. I know what you and your Second are thinking. You’re thinking that our fortress looks like something built by drunken gnomes from plans drawn up by gully dwarves.”

  “Well, I do tend to view things from an engineer’s perspective …” Kang began awkwardly.

  “We know it’s not pretty,” Yakanoh said. “But the fort is stronger than it looks. And it’s done right by us, saved our scaly hides on more than one occasion. There was that attack by those human mercenaries.” He glanced at Vertax for affirmation. “We held them off for three days and nights before they gave up and went home.”

  Kang had to admit that now he was impressed. Astonished, but impressed.

  “A word of warning, Kang,” Vertax said, lowering his voice. “Don’t criticize the fort to General Maranta. He thinks it’s the Tower of the Suns and the legendary Halls of Thorbardin all rolled into one.”