Draconian Measures

by Don Perrin

  “I know,” said Kang. “I’m trying to understand. I’m not angry at you. Just angry at myself for being an idiot. Granak, break down that door. Unless,” Kang added dryly, “one of you females has a magic spell that will work.”

  “I think I might, sir,” Thesik offered. Warning everyone to stand back, she chanted several words, then held her hand out toward the double doors. Nothing happened at first. Then the sounds of rending metal came to their ears. The iron hinges turned to rust as they watched. The doors teetered unsteadily and then dropped to the ground.

  The baaz dragged the two slumbering Queen’s Own inside the Bastion, deposited them, bound and gagged, in a corner.

  “What is that weird sound?” Kang demanded, entering.

  He’d first heard it standing outside, but he’d discounted it, figuring it was goblins pounding on their drums. Once they were inside the Bastion, the sound was markedly louder.

  Ka-thump. Ka-thump. Ka-thump. Ka-thump.

  The rhythmic sound kept time, counted cadence. The thumping was loud and all-pervasive. They could feel it, feel the walls shiver in response to the beat, feel the sound pulse up from the floor through their feet.

  “This is strange,” said Kang, looking around the rock walls with their honey-comb lattice structure. “I was here before and I didn’t hear this sound then.”

  “What do you suppose it is, sir?” Fonrar asked.

  “It’s like a thousand hearts, all beating at once,” said Thesik.

  “Creepy, that’s what it is,” said Huzzad from the darkness of the Bastion’s interior. “Ouch! Son-of-a— I just walked into a goddam wall! Look, you dracos can see in the dark, but I can’t. I don’t suppose there’s a torch around here anywhere?”

  There wasn’t. Not that being able to see will help us all that much anyway, Kang thought glumly, recalling the twisting, turning, confusing corridors they’d have to traverse to reach the underground rooms.

  “If it’s all the same to you,” Huzzad said. “I think I’ll wait right here, guard the rear.”

  “Good idea,” said Kang. “If any more of the Queen’s Own try to enter, you can lower the portcullis.”

  He gestured to the rickety-looking apparatus with its wicked teeth, flaring red in the light of the fires. The portcullis shivered with every thump of the strange sound. Huzzad glanced up at the portcullis, glanced at the frayed rope holding it in place, watched it shiver and shake and hastily took a step out from underneath it.

  “I’ll wait outside,” she said. “Take my chances with the goblins. Good luck! I hope you find Slith. I want his recipe for that cactus juice.”

  “We’ll have to walk single file,” Kang said. “This place is a maze. It’s got more twists and tangles than a pack of snakes all knotted together. And we’ve got to get through here fast!”

  He felt a sense of urgency. He didn’t like the strange drumming, didn’t like Thesik’s analogy. But the Bastion had been specifically designed to do exactly what it was doing—thwart an enemy’s advance, slow him down, make him confused, cause him to lose valuable time.

  Even Prokel and Vertax, who had been here before, had lost their way in the serpentine catacombs. Not only did Kang have to reach Slith swiftly, but he was needed back at the battle.

  “Commander,” said Fonrar. “May I make a suggestion?”

  “Yes, what is it?” he said, trying to curb his impatience.

  “You should let Thesik take the lead. She has a really good sense of direction. She never gets lost. Never.”

  “It’s an aurak thing,” Thesik added modestly. “You know, sir. No wings.”

  “No, it’s too dangerous,” Kang snapped. “I’ll take the lead. But Thesik can come behind me, let me know if I’m headed the right way.”

  He did this mainly to humor the females, for he didn’t really believe that Thesik had any better sense of direction than he himself. They wound around the corridors, turned this way and that. Kang walked with his sword drawn. Behind him, he could hear the footfalls of the females, their claws scraping against the floor, their wings brushing the sides of the walls. They were quiet, orderly, alert, halting when he halted, no bumping into one another. They had been well trained. He couldn’t have done better himself.

  I haven’t done anything for them myself, he thought, ashamed. That will change. I’ll make it up to them.

  In the meantime, he was proud of them. He was especially proud of Fonrar.

  “Sir,” Thesik said, reaching out her hand to stop him. “You don’t want to go this way. If you take this corridor, you’ll double back on your trail.” She indicated another that branched off to the left. “This is the route you want.”

  Kang hesitated. Then he admitted to himself that he really was lost. He didn’t have a clue about where they were going, except a gut feeling. Having come to the conclusion long ago that his gut wasn’t the most reliable organ in his body, he decided to follow Thesik’s advice. Immediately when he stepped into the corridor, he heard the sound of the heartbeat grow louder. He looked back at her.

  “Well done, Thesik,” he said.

  “Thank you, sir.” She smiled, pleased with his praise.

  “What a fool I’ve been,” he muttered as he hurried on. “What a big, blind stupid dope of a fool.”

  After that, he sought Thesik’s opinion. She led them unerringly when, left to himself, Kang might have wandered the maze for days.

  The sound of the strange thumping heartbeat had been an annoyance at first, but the closer they came, the louder the sound grew. The annoyance changed to dislike and soon Kang grew to actively hate the rhythmic thudding. He couldn’t think for the pulsing that shook the floors and the walls, shook the very teeth in his head. He put his hands over his ears in an effort to block it out, but then he heard the beating of his own heart thudding in time with the drumming and that was more disturbing. He fumed, frustrated that they couldn’t move faster, but he didn’t dare, for fear that they would miss a turn.

  “Sir,” Fonrar said, behind him. “I think I hear voices up ahead.”

  The next moment, he heard them, too. He couldn’t make out words. The thudding noise prevented that. His own heartbeat increased in excitement, for at the same time, he thought he was starting to recognize his surroundings. The maze of corridors ended at the entrance to General Maranta’s Audience Hall. Kang recalled that when they had come near to reaching that point, the corridors no longer twisted, but ran straight and smooth, like the one they were in now.

  “I think we’re near the end, sir,” said Thesik.

  Kang thought so, too. He lifted his hand, motioned his troop forward at a run. They would not be able to take the Queen’s Own by surprise this time. The sivaks would have heard the approach of Kang’s force, heard their scraping footsteps, their whispered conversations, heard the rattle and jingle of harness. The Queen’s Own who guarded the entrance to the Audience Hall would be waiting and ready for them.

  Kang had no time to alert his troops to what he planned. He hoped that they would catch on, follow his lead.

  “Ho, there!” he began shouting, as he tramped down the corridor. “Queen’s Own! Don’t fire! It’s the First Dragonarmy Engineers! I’m acting on orders from your commander”—

  Kang was blank. What in the name of the vanished gods was the name of their blasted commander?

  He looked at Granak, who shrugged helplessly.

  “—Commander Blxrkxzqur sent us!” Kang hollered, covering his mouth with his hand. The sound of his voice would be distorted by the corridors. He just hoped the commander’s name wasn’t something like Mog.

  His words echoed through the corridor as did the tramp of many feet, the clash of metal. Glancing back at Fonrar, he saw that she had grasped his intent, if not necessarily what he planned to do. His one hope was that Commander What’s His Name wasn’t standing down here waiting for him, but that was a risk he had to take. He didn’t think it likely. In General Maranta’s position, Kang would have left the Que
en’s Own commander outside the Bastion with orders to defend it should the fort fall to the enemy.

  Kang continued running. To stop would look suspicious. He raced around the corner. Granak had shouldered—politely—Thesik aside and was in position right behind his commander. Fonrar and her squadron double-timed behind.

  Four of the Queen’s Own stood guard at the door to the Audience Hall. They had their weapons drawn, but not raised. They were wary, tense, but anyone would be in their situation, stuck deep inside this cavernous building with no way of knowing whether it was day or night, no way of knowing what was happening in the fort outside.

  “Are you men all right?” Kang thundered as he burst into their midst.

  “Yes, Commander,” said one, looking puzzled. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

  “We found a breach in the walls of the Bastion on the northeast corner,” Kang said crisply. “We have evidence that a goblin raiding party is inside the Bastion. Your commander sent me to reinforce you. You men”—he motioned to his troops, who ran in after him—“deploy!”

  Kang stood near the captain of the watch detail. Granak had taken up a position next to another sivak. Fonrar, standing beside a third, was loudly ordering her troops to spread out. At a nod from Kang, Granak socked his sivak on the jaw, knocking him out cold. He caught the draconian in his arms as he fell, gently lowered him to the ground.

  Kang elbowed the captain in the gut, doubling him over, gave him a crack on the back of the head that sent him to the floor. The sivak near Fonrar stared at this. He opened his mouth, but at that moment Shanra, hissing to her sister, “It’s my turn!” clouted him on the head with the pommel of her sword. The female baaz swarmed over the fourth, tied him up in his own harness.

  “You better sleep ’em, just to make sure,” Kang told Fonrar.

  She nodded and, turning to one of the other bozaks, gave the order to cast a sleep spell.

  Kang was disappointed. He’d wanted to see how she handled the spellcasting. “Why didn’t you do it?” he asked in an undertone, not to upbraid her in front of her troop.

  “I don’t use magic, sir,” Fonrar said. She gazed up at him. “You don’t. I didn’t want …” She paused, confused, and looked hurriedly away.

  She didn’t want to hurt him. Feelings—comradely feelings—warmed Kang’s blood, more intoxicating than cactus juice. He had no time to express them, except for an awkward pat on her shoulder. He saw she understood, however. Her eyes were shining and she returned his pat with a shy one of her own.

  “Weapons drawn,” said Kang, facing the closed and barred door. “Those of you who have magic spells, be ready to cast them. Remember, we don’t want to kill any draconians if we don’t have to.”

  “What do you think we’re going to find inside there, Commander?” Thesik asked nervously.

  “I don’t know,” Kang answered. “So be prepared for anything. Ready?”

  Each of the females gripped her sword, nodded.

  “Thesik,” Kang ordered. “Open the door.”

  The aurak cast her spell. The door fell inward with a crash.

  Kang started to enter the Audience Hall, but this time Granak politely elbowed his commander aside, to be the first one into the chamber. Kang followed at a run, the females pouring through the shattered door behind him.

  They halted, stared, amazed. Whatever they had been prepared to find, it wasn’t this.

  The Audience Hall was packed with draconian soldiers. Hundreds of them, sitting wingtip to wingtip. All of them were armed, wearing helms and body armor. They were seated on the floor in neat and orderly rows, their equipment beside them, apparently waiting for someone to give them orders. All of them turned their heads to stare at Kang and his troops as they burst into the chamber.

  The thudding noise was very loud now. Kang had the eerie impression that it was coming from these draconians, that it was the sound of their collective beating hearts.

  If this was more of General Maranta’s bodyguard …

  We’re dead, Kang thought. He gripped his sword, prepared to go down fighting, but the draconians did not attack.

  They continued to stare at him expectantly. Waiting.

  “Sir,” said Granak, sounding puzzled. “Don’t you think … don’t they look kind of familiar?”

  “Which one?” Kang asked, returning their stares, wondering what in the name of all that was holy he was going to do.

  “All of them, sir,” Granak said.

  Now that Granak mentioned it, the draconians did look familiar. Kang had the feeling he’d seen them—all of them—before. He didn’t know how that could be possible.

  “Urul, sir,” said Granak, “and Vlemess.”

  Urul and Vlemess, the two draconians who had disappeared while on guard duty.

  “Yes!” Kang said in relief.

  He walked over to one of the draconians, thinking he was Urul, prepared to question him, find out what the heck was going on here. He paused, however, confused. The draconian standing next to Urul also looked like Urul. But the nearer he came, the less each did. It was as if someone had blurred Urul’s features, erased them.

  Kang stared closely into the eyes of each of the draconians. He saw that same empty, vacant and bewildered look he’d seen in the eyes of the new draconians. The oddest thought came to him.

  The idea was ludicrous, crazy, demented, horrible. But if there was any possibility he was right, Slith was in terrible danger. And not only Slith, all draconians everywhere were in danger.

  “You don’t see Slith anywhere?” Kang demanded in a harsh voice. He glanced swiftly around the groups of draconians, fearing to find a group of sivaks, a group of sivaks with Slith’s face and that lost and hopeless look in their eyes.

  “No, sir,” said Granak, after a moment. “All the draconians here are baaz.”

  “Then hopefully we’re in time!” Kang said fervently.

  The thudding sound wasn’t coming from inside this chamber. It was somewhere close, behind the walls. He recalled General Maranta making his sudden, dramatic appearance, seemingly out of nowhere. There must be a door along those walls somewhere. Kang headed for the back of the Audience Hall, moving slowly around the draconians, who continued to stare at him as if their hundreds of brains had only one thought and one set of eyes between them.

  “Don’t do or say anything threatening,” he warned his troops. “Fonrar, have your squadron spread out, search the walls. Look for a door. We need to locate the source of that thumping sound.”

  The thudding went on and on and just when Kang thought that hammering heartbeat was going to cause his own heart to burst, the sound stopped.

  The silence was heavy, ominous. Kang was filled with a terrible foreboding that whatever horrible thing was going to happen to his friend was going to happen now.

  “Slith!” Kang roared in helpless desperation, standing in the center of the vast Audience Chamber. “Slith, it’s me! Where are you?”

  Very faintly, he heard what sounded like, “Here—ulp!”

  “That was Slith!” The two sivak sisters were jumping up and down. “That was Slith, sir! We know his—”

  “Shut up!” Kang bellowed and they were all instantly silent.

  He shouted Slith’s name again, but no answer came.

  “Where did that come from?” he demanded.

  The two sivak sisters pointed to a place directly behind the dais on which General Maranta had first made his appearance. Tripping and falling over the feet of the draconian soldiers, Kang made his way to the dais. Fonrar’s troops, who had moved around the chamber’s walls, had already reached the area and were searching desperately for a door.

  The wall was smooth stone, unbroken. But he could hear sounds coming from the other side—sounds as of claws scrabbling on the floor. And other sounds, a voice, chanting.

  “Damn it!” Kang swore, frustrated, his fear for Slith twisting his stomach. “There must be a way back there! There must!”

  “I see it
,” Thesik cried. “There.” She pointed.

  Kang looked. He saw nothing. Smooth wall. No door. No opening of any kind.

  “It’s there,” Thesik insisted and she ran forward.

  “Thesik! No!” Fonrar called, jumping to try to stop her friend, for it appeared to her—it appeared to them all—that Thesik was going to dash her brains out running straight into a solid stone wall.

  They watched in astonishment, their cries dying on their lips, to see Thesik dash right through the wall and vanish from their sight.

  “An illusion!” Kang realized. “It’s an illusion!”

  An extremely good one. Some illusions are immediately dispelled the moment the viewer ceases to believe in them. But even though he knew now that the stone wall wasn’t real, he could still see it. He wondered how Thesik had seen through it, decided that must be another “aurak thing.”

  Drawing his axe, he barged through the door and nearly fell over Thesik, who was standing just inside the doorway. She caught hold of his arm, put her finger to her mouth, cautioning silence. Kang raised his hand to halt the rest of the troop, who were right behind him.

  He was inside another vast chamber. The interior was lit by a extremely bright light—a “fiery light”—radiating from the center. He could not see its source, due to the fact that his view was blocked by a crowd of draconians. Perhaps as many as hundred stood between him and the light. Kang froze in place, waited for the draconians to turn and attack.

  The draconians did not move. They were intent on watching whatever was happening in the center of the chamber. When his eyes had grown accustomed to the bright light, he saw that the draconians bore no weapons, they wore no armor. They made no sound. They didn’t move, except to breathe. They were kapaks, their scales had a faint brass sheen.

  The chanting voice continued. Kang recognized the voice of General Maranta. A shadow passed back and forth in front of the fiery light, partially obscuring it. Kang motioned Thesik nearer.