Draconian Measures

by Don Perrin

  Light, bright light, dazzling light, struck Kang a physical blow, as if he’d been hit between the eyes. The light might have come from the sun itself, had that orb been able to tunnel its way inside the Bastion. Half-blinded, Kang had to wait for his eyes to once again adjust to his new surroundings. He felt himself vulnerable at that moment. The feeling made him nervous.

  At the back of his mind, he was thinking how difficult, if not impossible, it would be for an enemy to penetrate the Bastion. Narrow corridors forcing the troops to walk single file. Twisting corridors where they would easily find themselves lost. Undoubtedly there had been slits in the walls for archers, although he had been too discombobulated to look for them. Dark halls one minute, brilliantly lit rooms the next would leave an enemy blind for critical seconds. The general was very well protected, not only by the Queen’s Own, but by the building he had himself designed.

  “This is the Audience Hall,” said Vertax.

  General Maranta could have held audience with every draconian in Kang’s regiment and have room to spare. The chamber was completely round, open, unfurnished with the exception of a single chair that stood on a raised platform at the far end. The Queen’s Own remained by the door, unmoving. No other draconians except themselves were in the room. The walls were smooth, windowless. No doors besides the one they had entered. There was only one way into this chamber and one way out. The brilliant light came from an enormous censer, an ornate lamp in which incense was burned. The censer was suspended twenty feet over his head. Forgetting himself, Kang stared.

  The censer was certainly huge and must have been heavy, for it hung from an iron chain whose links were as big around as Kang’s fist. The censer was made of wrought iron that shone black against the brilliant yellow light of the aromatic gums that burned inside. The ironwork had been formed in the image of dragons that circled the lamp. Silhouetted against the glow, their wings extended to touch on either side, their tails coiled to meet at the base.

  “I see you are admiring my lamp, Commander,” said a voice, echoing across the vast chamber.

  Kang gave a start. He looked toward the raised platform. A moment ago, that platform had been empty, he could have sworn it. Now an aurak sat in the chair, very much at his ease, as if he’d been sitting there for the last few hours. The Queen’s Own thumped the butts of their spears on the floor, called everyone to attention. The officers snapped a salute. Kang’s scales clicked, a reaction to his surprise. He drew himself to stiff attention.

  “Begging the general’s pardon, sir,” Kang said, wondering if the aurak had dropped out of the ceiling. He could find no other explanation for this sudden appearance. “I meant no offense.”

  No one said a word. The silence was awkward. Kang saw them all staring at him, felt some sort of explanation was due. “The lamp is truly remarkable, sir. I’ve never seen workmanship like that—”

  “Nor will you again, Commander,” General Maranta said pleasantly. “The making of such beautiful and magical artifacts is a lost art. I am pleased that you appreciate fine quality workmanship. The censer came from the Dark Queen’s temple at Neraka. One of the few pieces to be salvaged after the explosion. I found the censer lying several miles away from the wreckage of the temple. The ironwork was bent and twisted, but easily restored. The magical spell that creates the light remained. Remains to this day.” The general glanced up at the lamp. “I thought the magic might vanish with the gods, but, as you see, it glows as brightly as it did before our Queen deserted us.”

  “Yes, sir,” Kang said. He was never comfortable discussing his Queen’s departure. He still felt the wound in his soul, still felt betrayed. He hoped the general would change the subject.

  General Maranta sat on his dais like a king on his throne, Kang thought, wondering uneasily: does this aurak consider himself a king? As Kang looked more closely, however, the concern left him. The chair on which General Maranta sat was just that—a chair. Plainly made and unadorned, the chair appeared to have been designed for comfort rather than to impress or intimidate. The chair had to be large, because General Maranta was large, the largest aurak Kang had ever seen.

  General Maranta was a draconian elder, the only elder Kang had ever met and probably, by now, the last in existence. The elders were the very first draconians produced from the stolen eggs of the good dragons. After that initial batch, their creators, the black-robed wizard Drakart; Wyrllish, a cleric of Takhisis; and the red dragon Harkiel, had waited some time before conjuring up more. They wanted to see how the experiment turned out.

  The experiment was a success, providing a race of warriors, fierce, intelligent and capable. When this became apparent, the corruption of the good dragon eggs proceeded apace. The difference in ages between the first hatching and those that followed would not have been reckoned much in human terms—a few months at most. But among the draconians, the distinction was there and they respected it.

  And perhaps the difference in age was more drastic than any might have imagined. The aurak that Kang looked upon was large and obviously still hale and strong. But Kang noted signs of aging, signs that unnerved him. Kang wondered in dismay if this is what he would see in himself if he looked into a mirror.

  General Maranta’s scales still retained their golden sheen, but it was not the brilliant sheen of Thesik’s scales. She shone in the light like a new minted coin. By contrast, General Maranta’s gold appeared dull, dingy. He was slightly stooped, as he sat in the chair. His head thrust forward from between hunched, rounded shoulders. The muscles in his arms were starting to sag, probably from disuse, and he had developed a slight paunch around his middle. The skin around his eyes was wrinkled and pouchy.

  General Maranta’s eyes were like the glowing censer. They hit Kang a blow that punched through clear to his soul. His first fleeting feelings of pity for the aging aurak were knocked away, replaced by awe, respect, and a quite natural and proper fear.

  Kang remained standing awkwardly at attention. His shoulder wound itched and burned beneath the bandage. He couldn’t put his full weight on his injured leg and was forced to shift position every so often to maintain his balance. All the while, he was being studied by this formidable aurak. Had Kang’s military demeanor been less rigid, he might have flinched. He had nothing of which to be ashamed. He was proud of his men, proud of their accomplishments, proud of himself. As for secrets, he had only one, but he intended to reveal it and once that was done, he would have laid himself bare to these probing eyes.

  Seemingly satisfied by his inspection, General Maranta rose from his chair and returned the officers’ salute.

  “Welcome, Commander Kang. Welcome. Welcome to my fortress.”

  This draconian was a true leader, one who could not only intimidate but inspire, one to be feared and at the same time admired. Kang could understand how these draconians had survived Neraka. The General had willed it would be so.

  “Sir, thank you,” Kang said. “The First Dragonarmy Engineering Regiment is at your disposal, sir.”

  “Very good, Commander,” said General Maranta. “I am, of course, glad to be able to add two hundred new warriors to our ranks, but that is not the only reason I am pleased to welcome you. You represent hope. You are proof of what I have been saying all along—other draconians remain in this world. In large numbers, perhaps. You and your men are the first we have found. I have long said there are others,” General Maranta repeated, “but some have disagreed.”

  His gaze went to Vertax and Yakanoh, still standing at attention.

  “I am glad to have been proven wrong, General,” said Vertax.

  “Yes, well, let this be a lesson to you,” the general said. He waved a clawed hand. “At ease, gentlemen. At ease.” Seating himself again in the chair, he beckoned Commander Kang to advance.

  Kang marched forward three paces, halted at the foot of the dais. He was quite close to the general, uncomfortably close to the jabbing eyes.

  “I have received unsettling news about
you, Commander,” General Maranta said. “I require an explanation.”

  “If this is about my second, Slith, sir,” Kang said uneasily, “I can assure you that he deeply regrets his actions and that he will not cause—”

  “Slith?” General Maranta was puzzled. “I don’t recall any Slith. No, no. What I have to say regards the fact that you have an aurak among your ranks. And, yet, you are the commanding officer. Please explain.”

  Kang understood. Draconians maintained a social strata, just as did dragons, humans, elves, and all the other races. In the normal scheme of things, an aurak would rank far above a bozak. And although experience had come to dictate that bozaks made the best field commanders, Kang would have been required to defer to an aurak, much as a human general would defer to a human king. Kang definitely had some explaining to do.

  He had been going to wait to reveal his grand news, perhaps request an audience alone with the general, but if his ability to command was being questioned, he needed to clear up the confusion immediately. The best way, he thought, was to be straightforward, forthright.

  “Sir, I am in command because the aurak, although she appears full grown, is only recently hatched. She is little more than a child.” Kang made his statement and then shut his mouth on it, saying no more, waiting for the reaction.

  The implication of what he had said was of such amazing import that the three draconians looked as if they had been struck by a lightning bolt from a cloudless sky. “She” and “child.” Words never before used in association with draconians.

  Vertax and Yakanoh forgot their discipline and openly gaped. General Maranta drew in a sharp breath. The red eyes narrowed to the surgeon’s knife, slit Kang’s head open, sliced up his brain. Kang almost winced with the pain. He stood his ground, confident in himself, secure in the truth.

  General Maranta sank back in his chair, regarded Kang with an expression that was thoughtful and troubled.

  “You don’t believe him, do you, sir?” Vertax demanded. He turned to Kang. “I do not mean to call you a liar, Commander, but I think it is probable that you have been deceived. No draconian females were ever produced.”

  “Yes, they were,” said General Maranta suddenly and unexpectedly.

  “Sir?” Vertax turned his astonished gaze upon him.

  “They were produced in the first batch, at the same time that we elder males were made. But the females were not permitted to hatch.”

  “But, why, sir?” Yakanoh asked.

  “Can’t you guess?” General Maranta said. His voice was stern, his tone bitter. “Drakart and Wyrllish saw the creatures they had created and they were proud and pleased, but they were also afraid. We, the creation, proved to be more powerful than our creators. The Soft-skins feared us, feared what might happen to them should our numbers grow. And so they arranged it so that our numbers would never grow. We would live to serve them, live to die for them. And when all of us were dead, there would be no more to rise up to threaten or accuse them.

  “The eggs bearing the future of our race were taken away and, so we supposed, destroyed. Those of us who knew were made to swear an oath never to reveal our knowledge to anyone. The curse of Takhisis was laid upon us if we broke that oath and, to my knowledge, none of us ever did. To what purpose? What good would there be in speaking of what had been irrevocably lost?”

  “Not lost, sir,” Kang said softly. “Hidden. Hidden where they would never be found until they were meant to be found.”

  “And how did you find them, Commander?” General Maranta’s red eyes glittered.

  “Takhisis led us to them, sir,” Kang said simply. “Perhaps one of her last acts in this world.”

  “And why would Takhisis grant this valuable gift to you, Commander?”

  The general was displeased, jealous. Kang guessed what he was thinking. Such a gift should have been granted to an aurak of General Maranta’s rank and stature, not to a lowly bozak engineer. Kang couldn’t blame the general. It is what he himself would have felt under like circumstances.

  Kang explained how he had come by the discovery of the females. He told about how the dwarves were intent upon reaching the eggs first and destroying them. He told about the wild race through the caves of Thorbardin. He skimmed modestly over the battle with the fire dragon and the collapse of the cavern on top of him, dwelt instead on the thrill of the discovery of the box of cherished eggs. The tale took some time, but no one appeared in the least bored. At the end, General Maranta was grudgingly satisfied.

  “So it was simply a matter of being in the right place at the opportune time,” he said.

  “Yes, sir,” said Kang, glad to leave it at that.

  Vertax and Yakanoh were regarding Kang with open admiration. Kang fidgeted, embarrassed, wished they wouldn’t. General Maranta had taken notice and it was obvious to Kang that the general was annoyed. He was accustomed to being the one admired and he apparently did not like to share.

  Kang sighed inwardly. Without meaning to or intending to, he had incurred the general’s wrath and he done so in his first few hours in the fortress.

  “And so, Commander Kang,” General Maranta was saying, “it appears that in opening our gates to you, we have opened the gates to our own doom.”

  “Sir?” Kang looked up, startled.

  “Her Majesty’s gift, which you are so proud of having acquired—” General Maranta began, laying cold emphasis on the word.

  Kang winced. That charge was unjustified. He had been a faithful worshiper rewarded for his faith. He thought he had made that clear. He held his tongue, however, kept it curled tight between his clenched jaws.

  “—is, as are most of Her late Majesty’s gifts, extremely dangerous to the recipient,” General Maranta continued. “I had been wondering why an army of goblins and hobgoblins would bother attacking a small and insignificant force of draconian bridge builders. Now that question is answered.”

  “Yes, sir,” was all Kang could say. “I am afraid that perhaps you are right, sir. I can’t help but wonder why—”

  “Because we are a threat, Commander!” General Maranta thundered. “We were a threat fifty years ago and we remain a threat today. That is why they want to kill your females. And you have led the enemy here, to us!”

  Kang ventured to protest. “But the goblins ran away, sir. They’re probably still running! And, anyhow, they wouldn’t attack this fortification. Gobbos are cowards, all know that. They dared to fight us because our numbers were few and we were half-starved and worn out and they thought we would be easy pickings. But to attack a position that is well-fortified and well-defended is not their way, sir.”

  “It didn’t use to be, perhaps,” General Maranta returned coldly. “But apparently that has changed.”

  He gestured to one of the sivak guards, who had been standing silent and unmoving. The Queen’s Own removed a scroll of vellum and walked forward to present it to the general.

  “I have here,” said General Maranta, brandishing the scroll, but not opening it, “a report from my Reconnaissance officer. The goblins have not run away. Far from it. They are regrouping, resupplying! Their ranks are increasing in number. In my opinion, the only reason they haven’t attacked us before now is that they are waiting for additional reinforcements.”

  General Maranta leaned out of his chair, thrust his head forward. Kang had to hold himself rigid to keep from taking an involuntary step backward, away from the anger in the red eyes.

  “Make no mistake, Commander Kang. You have brought your war to us.”

  “I am sorry, sir,” Kang said. “I had no such intention, I assure you. If you will grant us this night to rest, we will be on our way before dawn. I had not planned to remain here, in any case. Basically, we’re on our way to Teyr, a city we discovered on a map—”

  “Not so fast, Commander Kang,” General Maranta snapped his teeth. “You’re not going to leave us to face goblins while you run away with the females!”

  “You misunderstand m
e, sir,” Kang returned with dignity. “We have placed you in danger. My only thought in suggesting that we depart was to draw the goblins away from the fort. They would leave you in peace. We ask only that the females could remain under protection—”

  General Maranta waved him to silence. He glared at Kang a moment, then the general’s outrage appeared to dissipate. The aurak’s shoulders sagged. Sinking back in his chair, he shook his head.

  “Perhaps I did misjudge you, Commander,” General Maranta said, with a rueful smile. “You must forgive me. We have lived here in relative peace for the last thirty years. It grieves me to think that we might lose all that we have worked so hard to build.”

  “My men and I will be glad to use our skills to strengthen the fortifications, sir,” Kang said, mollified by the general’s conciliatory tone. Kang could understand the aurak’s feelings of apprehension. He recalled his grief and sorrow when the dwarves had burned his own town to the ground. “If you want us to, we will man the walls and help defend—”

  “Good, Commander, good,” said General Maranta. He cast an oblique glance at the Queen’s Own, who marched forward. Apparently the interview was coming to an end.

  “—so long as the threat remains,” Kang finished his sentence, laying emphasis on the words. He was not going to abandon his dream. “Once the goblins are destroyed, we plan to continue on north to Teyr, sir.” He wanted there to be no misunderstanding about that.

  “We will see, Commander,” said General Maranta in placating tones. “You might come to like it here. We may be only five thousand strong now, but those numbers will grow. Our ranks will swell.”

  Kang was considerably alarmed. “Sir,” he said, “the females are, as I have said, little more than children. And even if there were … um … little draconians”—he could feel his blood burn beneath his scales—“it would be years, maybe many years, before they were grown—”

  “What do you take me for, Commander?” General Maranta interrupted with a chuckle. “Some lamebrained gully dwarf? I wasn’t counting on your blasted females to provide me with warriors. We found you, didn’t we? There are probably more units like yours, perhaps whole regiments, wandering around out there. They’ve been lying low, but now that the Chaos War has decimated the ranks of our enemies and left them weak, more lost draconians like yourselves will arrive here.” General Maranta nodded sagely. “You can bet steel on it.”