Draconian Measures

by Don Perrin

  The regiment rustled, scales clicked. There hadn’t been a promotion in the regiment since Granak had become Standard Bearer at the beginning of their trek across the Plains of Dust, over a year ago.

  Kang drew himself up. “Subcommander Slith!” he yelled.

  Taken by surprise, Slith didn’t move. He looked over at Gloth, thinking perhaps that he’d misunderstood.

  Gloth hissed, “Yeah, you!”

  Slith came to attention, saluted.

  “Sir!” he said and marched smartly out to stand in front of the commander.

  Kang returned the salute. He reached forward, as Slith stood at attention, and removed the sivak’s harness. Placing Slith’s harness on the ground, Kang unbelted his own and slung it around Slith’s shoulders.

  Slith continued to stand at attention, but he appeared absolutely dumbfounded.

  Kang ignored him and addressed the troops. “Regiment, today’s orders: As of today, Subcommander Slith is promoted to commander and is hereby placed in command of the First Dragonarmy Engineer Regiment. His post takes effect immediately. That is all.”

  Kang saluted Slith, and turned to leave.

  Slith came to his senses. “Sir!”

  Kang looked back, stopped.

  “Sir,” said Slith softly, “are you sure?”

  Kang smiled. “Never more sure of anything in my life.”

  Slith lowered his gaze a moment, overcome. Then he lifted his head.

  “Sir, we have something for you.” Slith turned to the regiment and, in his best, arrogant, you-sons-of-bitches command voice, he yelled, “Standard Bearer, bring forth the standard!”

  Granak lay on a litter beside the field, propped up on one arm. He couldn’t stand yet, but he wouldn’t have missed this for the world. Cresel held the standard on parade. The bloody flag had been hung on the battered, blood-stained pole. At a nod from Granak, Cresel marched up to Slith, lowered the standard to horizontal.

  Slith took the standard from the pole, detaching the ties. Folding the standard, he turned to Kang. “Sir, this is for you. We thought you should have it. Especially now that you’ve promoted me to your position, sir.”

  Kang accepted the standard wordlessly. He couldn’t say a thing.

  Slith nodded again to Cresel, who reached inside his leather tunic and pulled out another cloth. He unfolded it and handed it to Slith. The flag was an exact replica of the one they had handed to Kang, except that below the twenty-three battle honors, a new one had been added. “Maranta’s Fort” Anyone who saw the banner would know that this regiment had fought there and won.

  Kang turned, and marched from the field, leaving Slith in command. He didn’t look back to see what Slith did, what orders he gave. Kang knew that everything would be done exactly as he would have done it—or better.

  * * * * *

  Kang had yet another ceremony to attend, but this one he did not plan. At Subcommander Fonrar’s request, Kang had permitted the females to offer Huzzad the final honors due to her. Fonrar asked Kang about the burial customs of humans. Were there special rituals they should follow? Kang told her that the customs varied widely. Some humans entombed their dead with treasure. Others burned the bodies, kept the ashes in urns. Still others built rock cairns over the body. Fonrar absorbed this information thoughtfully, then went to confer with the others.

  Late afternoon, as the sun sank behind the mountains, smearing the sky with blood red, purple and gold, Kang and Slith and all the other draconians of the First Dragonarmy Engineers stood at attention as six baaz draconians, moving with slow and solemn step, bore Huzzad’s body on a shield to a bier constructed of what remained of the Drunken Dragon.

  They placed Huzzad’s body on the wood bier. Carefully, they arranged her red hair around her shoulders. They had removed her armor, wrapped the body in cloth. Thesik stood at the head of the bier, holding Huzzad’s helm in her hands. Huzzad’s sword and armor lay at the foot of the bier. At a signal from Fonrar, the baaz poured incense taken from the Bastion over the cloth and over the bier. The smell of the incense was pungent, sweet.

  Riel stood by, holding a flaring torch.

  Fonrar said a simple eulogy. “She was our sister.”

  Kang said, in his heart, She was my friend.

  At Fonrar’s signal, Riel laid the torch to the wood. Flames crackled and soon the bier was engulfed in fire, the heat so intense that Thesik, holding Huzzad’s helm, was forced to step back. Slith ordered the troops dismissed. The draconians left, returned to their duties.

  The females remained with the bier. They would remain throughout the night, until the ashes cooled.

  “We want to take her with us,” Fonrar told Kang. “We don’t want to leave her here alone.”

  * * * * *

  A week after the battle, most of the wounded were now completely healed, including Kang and Granak, who had once again taken up his duty as head of Kang’s bodyguard. Kang had tried to argue with the big sivak, saying that now that he was retired, he shouldn’t have a bodyguard, but Granak was adamant.

  On orders from Commander Slith, Kang was to have an honorary bodyguard. If Kang tried to argue, Slith had threatened to pull rank on him.

  Kang was in his own quarters, studying a map of the territory, a map that had once belonged to General Maranta.

  “Sir,” said Granak, opening the door, “Commanders Vertax, Prokel, Slith, and Trok to see you, sir.”

  “Trok?” Kang looked up.

  “He took over from Commander Yakanoh, sir,” Granak replied.

  “Oh, yes.” Kang nodded. Yakanoh had been killed in the outset of the battle, impaled on a goblin spear.

  “And Commander Mitrat, of the Queen’s Own,” Granak added. His voice held no inflection, but at this last, Granak rolled his eyes.

  Kang rumbled deep in his throat. “Ask them to step in.”

  He rose to his feet to greet them, offering his left hand to shake. He invited them to sit down, sent Granak for a jug of cactus juice.

  “Kang,” said Vertax, “we’ll get right to the point. We understand from Commander Slith that you’ve retired from the military. Is that true?”

  “Yes,” Kang answered. He frowned, cast a glance at Slith, who pretended not to see him. “It is.”

  Prokel shook his head. “A goddamn waste. Kang, we want you to take Maranta’s place. We want to make you general.”

  Kang stared at them, taken aback. He looked at Mitrat, saw even the commander of the Queen’s Own give a stiff nod. Kang started to speak, but Vertax struck in.

  “You deserve it, Kang. I have to admit I thought your idea of that wooden dragon was ridiculous at first. Why didn’t you tell us you planned to cast an illusion spell on it? I know”—he forestalled Kang, who would have spoken—“better to take us all by surprise. Our reactions were more realistic. I nearly lost my lunch when I saw that monster overhead. Brilliance. Sheer brilliance,” Vertax raved, tapping his claws on the table in applause. “You saved us, Kang.”

  “From the goblins,” said Kang, eyeing them.

  “From the goblins,” said Vertax, heartily enthusiastic.

  Kang said nothing. He sat quite still, watching, waiting.

  Vertax lost some of his enthusiasm. He and Trok exchanged uneasy glances. Prokel squirmed in his chair. Mitrat stared straight ahead.

  “Did you gentlemen know Maranta had in his possession the Heart of Dracart?” Kang asked.

  “No,” Prokel began.

  “We knew, Kang,” Vertax cut in, not meeting Kang’s stern gaze. “You knew, Prokel. Don’t try to convince us otherwise. You had to know. The Ninth brought all sorts of loot and magical artifacts with them from the Temple at Neraka.”

  “I didn’t know,” Prokel insisted stubbornly. “The Heart was only a rumor, a legend. Like those blamed dragonlances. Remember how we laughed when we first heard about those?”

  “I talked to dracos who actually saw it,” Vertax persisted.

  “Oh, sure you did. When you pinned them dow
n it was always someone’s buddy’s friend who saw it.”

  Vertax finally looked at Kang directly. “Whether we knew about it or we didn’t, I swear to you, Kang, we didn’t know that Maranta was crazy enough to use it! I was like you. I thought my men had just deserted—”

  “I never thought my men had deserted,” Kang said.

  He shifted his gaze to Mitrat. The commander of the Queen’s Own had neither moved nor spoken.

  “You knew about the Heart of Dracart? You knew Maranta had brought it safely from Neraka?”

  “Yes, sir,” said the commander stonily.

  “Did you know what it did?”

  “No, sir,” said Mitrat. “It wasn’t my place to know.”

  “And was it your place to help Maranta murder your fellows?” Kang demanded, his voice rising in anger.

  “I was following orders, sir,” Mitrat replied. “General Maranta was my superior officer. It was not my place to question him.”

  “Even when you saw him killing good men and using their souls to create mindless nincompoops who walk and talk and salute anything in a fancy tabard.” Kang regarded Mitrat in disgust. “No, you didn’t say a word. You know why? Because the poor souless bastards Maranta was creating were no different from yourself!”

  Mitrat lunged to his feet, hand grappling for his sword.

  Slith was on his feet, placing himself between Mitrat and Kang.

  Vertax grabbed hold of Mitrat, jerked his arm. “Sit down, you fool! Kang’s right. We’re all to blame. I wondered where those strange troops came from—”

  “We all did,” said Trok, “but it was easier not to ask questions. It was easier to trust the general. Like Mitrat, here. We followed orders.”

  “That is the strength of the military, sir,” Mitrat stated. “A soldier obeys orders. Remove discipline and you have anarchy, chaos.”

  “I am aware of that, Commander,” said Kang. “The lost gods know that when I was in command, I expected all my officers to obey my orders, even if they didn’t understand them or didn’t agree with them. I expected the same of myself.” Kang gazed long at Mitrat. “But I could not have done what you did. Not without questioning, protesting, even resisting, if necessary. Discipline, orders—it used to be all so simple for me. It’s not anymore. And that’s why I have removed myself from command.

  “I made a decision to retire from the military some time ago,” Kang continued. “I’m not sure how to explain this, but it came to me that our people no longer need a military leader. We need someone who will help us take our rightful place among the other races in the world.”

  He felt embarrassed, spread his hands. “I know I’m not qualified for this position and I’m probably going to make a hash of it, but I’d like to give it a shot. I want to be a leader of people, now, not of soldiers. The First Dragonarmy Engineers are going to be moving out tomorrow morning. We’re going on to the city of Teyr. We’re going to build a new life there, raise our young in peace.”

  Vertax shook his head. “That won’t be easy, Kang. There are those like the elves who don’t want peace with us. Those like the Dark Knights who don’t want us to take our place in the world.”

  “I know,” said Kang. “But Commander Slith is the leader of our regiment. I have every confidence in his ability and in that of his troops.”

  “There’s nothing we can say to make you change your mind?” Prokel asked.

  “No, sirs. Thank you,” Kang said.

  The commanders finished their drinks, rose to their feet, and started to file out, all except Slith, who remained seated.

  “Commander Mitrat,” Kang said.

  The commander halted, stiff-backed, and for a moment Kang thought he was going to be ignored. Then Mitrat slowly turned.

  “Sir,” said Kang, “I want to apologize for what I said to you. I was out of line.”

  Mitrat maintained his ice-rimed silence for long moments, then a tiny crack appeared. “I did what I was required to do and I do not regret it. Yet, there were times … At night, I could see their eyes.…”

  He said no more. Looking at Kang, Mitrat nodded his head slightly, then turned and continued out the door.

  Slith sat, staring at Kang.

  “What is it?” Kang growled. “Have I sprouted feathers?”

  “No, sir,” said Slith. “I’m glad you turned them down, sir.”

  “Did you think I wouldn’t?” Kang was astonished.

  “I thought maybe when you heard their offer, you might change your mind. Not but what I think you’d make a good general, sir, it’s just that, well, we’ve come all this way and we’ve lost a lot of good men—”

  “We leave for Teyr in the morning. I want the First Dragonarmy Engineers to be ready at first light,” Kang said, cutting Slith off. “Will that give you enough time to prepare, Commander?”

  Slith grinned. “You bet it will, sir.”

  When Slith had gone, Kang poked his head out the door. “Uh, Granak,” he said, feeling awkward and embarrassed. “I’d, uh, like for you to ask Subcommander Fonrar if she would like to, uh, share some dinner with me.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Granak, taking care to refrain from smiling. “I’ll ask her, sir.”

  Kang returned to his map. The road ahead would be difficult, but they would make it. Of that, he was certain.

  * * * * *

  The next morning, the First Dragonarmy Engineers lined up on the parade ground for the last time. Their wagons were packed. Each draconian, male and female, was well armed and well supplied with the stores they would need for the trip.

  Inside her pack, Fonrar carried a silver urn recovered from the storehouse. The urn was decorated with dragons. It had come from Neraka and inside the females had reverently placed Huzzad’s ashes. Their sister was coming with them.

  Slith walked over to Kang, who was watching the proceedings from the sidelines. “Sir, would you like to march with us in the vanguard?”

  Kang smiled, and nodded. “Yes, Commander, I would be proud to. Thank you for asking me.”

  At Slith’s command, the First Dragonarmy Engineers marched out of Maranta’s Fort. They marched past the large, black, greasy burned spot on the ground—the remains of the once-grand goblin army. Granak marched at their head, proudly waving the new standard. The engineers had traveled for perhaps a half a mile and were just climbing over a rise, when a baaz came dashing forward.

  “Sir!” he yelled. “Commander.”

  Both Kang and Slith turned around. “Yes,” both answered.

  “Oops, sorry,” Kang said. “I forgot.”

  “What is it, trooper?” Slith asked.

  “Look, sir!” The baaz turned, pointed.

  Draconians were filing out of the fort. Row after row of them. The Ninth Infantry led the way. Behind them was the First. Behind them the Third. They marched up to rear the engineer column. They said nothing, but joined up behind the ranks of engineers, falling into line behind them.

  Kang stared, puzzled. “What are they doing?”

  “They’re coming with us, sir,” said Slith.

  “All of them?” Kang was flabbergasted.

  “Looks that way, Commander. Sorry, sir,”—Slith glanced at Kang, perplexed—“what do I call you now? What’s your title?”

  “How about—Your Grace?” Kang suggested, grinning.

  Slith snorted.

  Draconians continued to leave the fort. The last few, Kang saw, wore the tabards of the Queen’s Own. Led by Commander Mitrat, they joined the line, but took care to leave a space between their ranks and the ranks of the ordinary soldiers ahead of them.

  Slith frowned. “Do we really want those bastards, sir?”

  “They’re draconians,” Kang said. “They’re our people. We’ll find a place for them.”

  Last, after the Queen’s Own, a group of about one hundred draconians straggled out of the fort. They looked after their departing fellows, seemed confused, as if they couldn’t figure out what was happening or what t
hey were supposed to do about it.

  “The dunderheads,” said Slith. “Those that survived the battle. Not many did, the goblins be thanked. What do we do about them, sir? Do we want them along, too? You can’t say they’re draconians.”

  “Yes … they are. Maybe, in time, some part of them will remember what they used to be. Meanwhile, they’re our responsibility. Send a messenger to Commander Mitrat. Tell him that he and the Queen’s Own are in charge of them.”

  “Yes, sir.” Slith grinned, then said, “It will be a pleasure, sir. I mean—Governor.”

  Governor. Kang liked that.

  As he had said, he would probably make a hash of it. He’d been trained as a soldier, not a political leader. But he would do the best he could.

  Turning, his heart swelling, Kang led his people north. He led his people to their destiny.

  A Brief History of Draconians

  Draconians were created at end of the Age of Darkness to a serve as specialists and shock troops in the dragonarmies during the War of the Lance. They were created to provide the Dark Queen’s generals with soldiers who were more predictable than humans and more tractable than the ogres and goblins that made up the bulk of the army. Although male and female draconians were created at the same time, the existence of the females was concealed for a long time.

  Draconians are the result of twisted and evil magic. Their race was created using the eggs of metallic dragons that had been stolen and secreted under a temple devoted to Takhisis in the city of Sanction. The stolen eggs were subjected to a special ceremony (called “the corruption ritual”) performed by Dracart, a wizard of the Black Robes; Wyrllish, one of Takhisis’s most powerful priests during the War of the Lance; and Harkiel, a dark-hearted red dragon. This ceremony corrupted the embryo within the eggs, causing it to split into dozens of humanoid creatures.

  Each breed of draconian draws its origin from a specific type of metallic dragon egg. Baaz were created from brass dragon eggs, Bozaks from bronze, Kapaks from copper, Sivaks from silver, and Auraks from gold. Until the time of the Chaos War, the world believed that draconians were sexless beings, unable to reproduce except through the corruption ceremony. The world was wrong.