The Dragonswarm

by Aaron Pogue

  The redhead remembered stories he had heard about some region in the Northlands where men fought fearsome bulls, relying on taunts and distractions to wear them down. He and Garret Dain designed a plan from there: One man could draw the dragon's ire while the rest nipped at its heels. We practiced that 'til they were sore, 'til I ran out of clever tricks, and every man among them took a turn as the distraction.

  Late in the afternoon, we were interrupted by the sharp clack of Caleb's boots in the stone corridor. He stopped in the doorway and considered us for a moment. His eyes barely touched the dragon form. He nodded once. "It's late. The men are called to supper, and then, if you are ready for it, their first lesson is scheduled for tonight."

  The redhead spoke up beside me. "Our first lesson? What was all this then?"

  His general's dark eyes fell upon him, and the young man bowed his head. "Sir, I mean."

  "He means the lesson you will teach," I told them all. "I will train you, and you will train your teams."

  "Our teams?" Dain asked, worried understanding already in his eyes.

  I nodded. "Your hunting parties. I mean you each to lead one."

  "Are they ready?" Caleb asked. "Or do they need another day?"

  "We do not have another day. But they are ready. They can at least begin."

  I heard some uncertain murmuring among them, but Dain stepped forward with a question in his eyes. I waited while he found his courage. The others tended to follow his lead, so if I could just convince him, I had it won.

  At last he cleared his throat. "Could you...." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder to the empty floor where we had fought an airy dragon. "Could you make more dragon forms like that? For us to use?"

  "Easily. Lareth and I together could probably even make a clever one. I'll try to have it by tomorrow."

  He nodded. "Then yes. With that, I can teach my men. Do I get to choose my own?"

  He looked to me. I looked to Caleb. Caleb shrugged.

  "Find volunteers if you can," I said. "It's dangerous work. For all of you. But we are fighting for the world."

  They nodded, then they left, the allure of a warm supper dragging them away. I watched them through the stone as they went down the central stairs and to the crude kitchens we'd made of one end of the great hall. Caleb stood beside me, waiting, 'til I shook off that strange awareness and turned to meet his eyes.

  "Will they do?"

  "They'll do," I said. "They understand the task, and already they make plans. I have some hope at last."

  He nodded, silent for a moment, then glanced at me from the corner of his eye. "How long will it take to train them, do you think?"

  "This group? They will be ready in a week. Fifteen days at most. But they're handpicked. I don't know after that. Two months, perhaps, for them to pass on what they know?"

  "You're still thinking ten-man teams?"

  "Thirty, I think, 'til we get started."

  "That's a third of our force," he said. "That's quite a lot to set aside."

  "To set aside? This is our mission, Caleb. The dragons will not wait forever."

  "I understand," he said. "But neither will the king. Your walls are good, but there is much more we should do. For one, the wizard never bothered to teach them how to hold a strong location."

  "So what would you advise?"

  "Start small. Make this crew your only hunting party. Send them out together in a week or two and see how many survive."

  I frowned at him. "I'm heartened by your confidence."

  He shrugged. "We will not know until we've tried. If anyone survives, they'll come back veterans of war. Captains of the hunt. You'll be amazed what that status will mean to the men. By then, I should be ready to release the rest for full-time training."

  "What's our time frame, then?"

  "Two weeks from now you take the first group hunting, if we're not up to our armpits in Eagles and Guards. All things go well, you'll have your thirty hunting parties by spring. In the meantime, don't tie up more than an hour or two a day."

  "I can live with that—"

  "Of course," he interrupted, "that assumes we can get to the dragons. Have you learned Lareth's portal magic yet?"

  "I've told you, it's not a simple thing."

  "How long?" he asked.

  "I cannot say."

  He frowned. He seemed to know I hadn't tried. "Three thousand men inside these walls, Daven, and only two of them are capable of magic. Remember that. If the king's army lays a siege, all the training in the world won't help if we're stuck inside these walls."

  "I'll handle it, Caleb."

  "And speaking of the siege, have you considered food?"

  I shook my head. "Lareth claims they always kept enough in store to last two weeks. You'd know better than I how much we have."

  "That sounds right."

  I nodded. "Lareth wants me to release them to forage, but I won't have my men ruining these farmers. I'm still trying to figure something out."

  Caleb only nodded. "You'll have a week, then. If you don't figure something out, they'll forage. Your word is law, but these men will do what it takes to get fed."

  "I understand."

  "Good." He considered me for a moment, then nodded to himself. "You're doing well. There are a thousand challenges ahead, but you are doing well."

  "Thank you, Caleb."

  "Come, my lord. Let's eat. And then we'll speak of options."

  By the tenth day nearly all my men were on their feet, and as they recovered Caleb put them right to work. For seven days after that they learned how to protect the fortress even as they shored up its defenses. As morning burned toward noon on the eighth—our eighteenth day inside the walls—it was amazing how much Caleb had accomplished.

  We'd cleared the rubble up to the tower's third floor, as well, and Lareth itched to start work on the fourth. I helped, but never as I'd done on that first day. In little doses, and only when my fires raged, I'd clear a corridor of rubble or strengthen a buckling wall. Workers built the outer walls, as well, above the marble-smooth and perfect foundation I had made, they built it up with mud and brick and when I had a chance I made it whole.

  By then only a third of the men were working construction at any time. The rest worked in shifts, hunting and gathering food wherever I would let them, though the return was paltry as long as I restricted them from settled lands.

  Others scouted or stood sentry, but the most important work was the training. Caleb and I both helped at times, but the majority of the work fell to our thirty hand-picked hunters, and they shone. Even in the few hours Caleb would give me, the rest of the men learned much from my Captains of the Hunt. The soldiers listened to them and practiced what they learned. And whenever the Captains were not teaching, they were studying with me.

  I taught them how to spot a dragon's den in the wild, how to recognize and read the marks of a dragon's passage. I told them how and when to pin a dragon in its cave, and how to use its size against it. In the practice area I built the shadow dragon forms and watched my handful teach nine hundred men how to recognize a dragon's soft spots, how to avoid the massive claws, and what to expect of the powerful tail.

  Every day they learned, and every day they grew more confident. The walls and tower grew higher. And somewhere, far off or close at hand, the dragonswarm grew more terrible. Every day I expected grave reports, but they didn't come. Rumors. Hints at casualties, letters gone unanswered, messengers lost. But in Teelevon, at least, the dragons hadn't yet attacked.

  At noon on the eighteenth day, Caleb tracked me down and dragged me to the north wall. One great cloud of dust stained the whole horizon. We watched it carefully throughout the day, and though it drew nearer we couldn't yet discern the party that stirred it up.

  The men grew anxious. All throughout the fortress, eyes strayed often to the northern wall, wherever they worked. Whispers ran among the men. Things had been too easy, they seemed to say, and now at last the trials were upon us. When th
e sun set I lost sight of the cloud, but the distant glow of campfires lit the night, miles off to the north. I watched until my eyes burned, straining to see something in the dark, but nothing moved.

  And when I could keep my feet no longer, I retired to my place inside the tower. The men without were restless, and their anxiety echoed noisily inside my head. We had strong walls, and very able men, but still I feared. For long hours I lay awake, staring at the stone ceiling, until finally a fitful sleep claimed me.

  As I drifted off at last, the knowledge was bitter in my mind: When morning came, it would bring us war.

  We were not only warriors by now. The first farmer had come on our ninth day in the fortress, while most of my brave soldiers were still lying sick in bed. An alarm had risen when someone working the north wall spotted him approaching, but I ran out ahead and met the man halfway. His name was Robertson. He had a farm eight miles northwest of the tower, and he had lost a son in the siege.

  His eyes lit up when he saw me, and he said, "Daven of Teelevon. The rumors are true. You've come to rebuild Palmagnes and face the dragons."

  I only looked at him, astonished, as he knelt before me. "Take my pledge, Sir Daven. I'd like to join your lot." And humble though he was, he too added to my fires.

  He bid me send my men to bring in the grain from his barns—scarcely three meals for such a large force, but it was what he had to give. Farmer Robertson had nothing more to offer, but I gave him sanctuary within the walls of my fortress, and he watched the construction with interest.

  The next day had brought a handful more, farmers and ranchers from south Teelevon, and every one of them recognized me on sight. Some brought families. They shook my hand or bowed awkwardly or fell to their knees before me, and by the end of the eighteenth day I had a civilian population within my walls. I was worried about them when dawn came on the nineteenth day.

  I was worried about my warriors, too. They were not really trained to defend fortifications. Caleb had done his best, but all their experience had been earned attacking from behind, in the dark, not waiting in strongholds. I was worried about the king's soldiers coming to the attack, too. I thought of all the brave young men in the front lines, faithfully charging against my waiting archers.

  I thought dark thoughts indeed of Othin ordering them to advance.

  At dawn I watched with Caleb as the dust cloud appeared again. They were on the move.

  Around the third hour, I heard him say, "Now that is odd...."

  I was thinking the same thing. "At least your defenders can stand down," I said. "Put them back to work."

  But he and I just watched the horse advance. Around noon on the nineteenth day, an army of peasants invaded Palmagnes. They were farmers and merchants, carpenters and blacksmiths and riverboat men—there were shepherds aplenty, but not a soldier among them.

  They came on foot, or leading donkeys on a tether, or some in long trains of wagons. They came in a great caravan, packing hard the ancient soil of the forgotten South Road, and my men watched with open mouths as the crowd poured through the gaping gateway and stood milling in the sprawling courtyard, eyes wide.

  It took the rest of the day to sort them out. That afternoon we didn't lay a single stone, we were so busy helping lay out and construct and organize a place for the myriad civilians within our military encampment. Caleb and Lareth and I were harried, moving in and out among the newcomers until well after sunset, first trying to understand and then trying to explain and, at the last, only to organize.

  They had come from across the plains. I saw many of the people of the Eliade barony, and they were small surprise after the steady stream of farmers coming to join us in the last week. But I also met men from as far away as Cara to the west, and a hundred villages out east and even north of Tirah. Just at sunset I stumbled across the innkeeper of Chaaron, who bowed and scraped and swore an oath of fealty without once recognizing me. Caleb said later that he'd spotted Farmer Jake as well.

  The word had spread from there. I heard my own intentions from a hundred different mouths, and every face shone with hope that I could face the dragonswarm. When I had left that inn, and then the rebels disappeared, the people talked.

  I heard heartbreaking tales, too, of the monsters finally come down from the mountains. A man who had told me dragons couldn't compare with the threat of the rebels accepted a bowl of thin barley soup from one of those very soldiers and told me what a flight of dragons had done to his home.

  Wherever I saw faces from the baron's lands, I urged them to go home. This place had never been meant to protect civilians, but they cried or begged or stubbornly refused. I had chosen the location for the power of its name, and the name had spread too far. Every man and woman among them believed that Palmagnes could stand; some had traveled hundreds of miles to seek its refuge.

  So we made them as comfortable as we could, organized them as well as we could, and late into the night we met back in the tower and wondered what to do. Caleb met with his officers for half an hour, then sent them out into the night with further orders. Lareth sat with crossed legs and brooded.

  I waited.

  Finally Caleb came over to me, "Daven, this is not all trouble."

  "It is. They cannot fight. What can we really do for them?"

  "You're thinking about it the wrong way 'round. How many of the people you met were from this province?"

  I shrugged, "A little more than half, I'd say."

  He nodded. "Me too. And every one of them a farmer or cattleman. Daven, these people can support us. In fact...we need them."

  "No, Caleb!" I shook my head, "We will not take advantage of these people—"

  Lareth rose. "It's hardly taking advantage. If you believe any part of what you say, these people face destruction. You can offer them some refuge. Use the resources they're willing to give you, and grant the safety only you can. It's why we tolerate our lords at all."

  Caleb nodded. "They're willing, too. The ones from around here, especially. They were trying to join the army, Daven. They haven't forgotten you're their knight."

  "But I'm not. Not anymore."

  Lareth's head snapped around in surprise. "You were made a Knight of the People around here?"

  "For killing you, in fact."

  He didn't grin this time, but still a smile touched his lips. "You should have said. I would have sent you out campaigning days ago. That title's gold."

  "I'm sure it's been revoked," I said. "The king would have his say."

  "Not much in this. A Knight is 'of the people,' after all. Unless they turn against you, royal mandate won't do much. And you seem to have respect throughout this land."

  "Not just respect," Caleb said. "They adore him. And those who came from farther off adore the rumors."

  "So I should welcome them to die because they love me?" Even as I said it, I knew I was wrong.

  Lareth scowled openly. "Of course you won't. You'll save their lives. Isn't that what this whole charade is for? You've built a bulwark strong enough to stand the storm, why not welcome every ally come inside? Extend your protection, and triple your fighting power."

  I shook my head. "Well, not my fighting power. These aren't soldiers, not even as much as the brigands I've got."

  Caleb shook his head. "That's not what he means. He's talking about food again. Get the grain and the cattle. Without it, you won't have any soldiers a week from now."

  "Oh, I'm not even talking food," the wizard said. "I'm talking power. Strong hands, strong backs, more fire for you to burn. Your fighting power."

  "There's that," Caleb said, thoughtful. "There's craftsmen out there, too. You almost have a town. Put them to work. Build us some tables, some chairs. Make the men a barracks and let them sleep on beds for the first time in a year. That will help your soldiers, too."

  Lareth's eye lit up. "I would murder for a feather bed."

  Caleb almost smiled. He saw the doubt in my eyes, and said, "No, Daven. There's nothing left to argue ab
out. The mage is right. You have a chance like this, you take it."

  "And all I have to give them is my protection?"

  Caleb shrugged, "It's more than they'd get from anyone else, once the dragons come. For that matter, it's more than they got from the good baron last time these cutthroats were around. There's no justification for turning them back."

  And they were right, of course. I couldn't argue much, but I had spent two days dreading the doom that hung over my people, and now I'd only added to the fold. But we'd have beds and blacksmiths, we'd have cooks and carts piled high with food. The siege would come, and all these unarmed men could represent our victory. We talked on, late into the night, ironing out details and beginning the long process of planning out the village that would be. Twice Caleb left to wake one officer or another and start the orders passing.

  The second time he left I barely noticed, so caught up in my discussion with Lareth. "Of course they're still capable—given the tools—but where will we get the resources?"

  The wizard shrugged, "A blacksmith's got iron. A carpenter's got wood. Wood wouldn't be a problem anyway, with the number of men we've got—"

  "Yes, but they wouldn't bring iron with them! Many barely brought the clothes on their backs."

  He shook his head. "It doesn't matter. We'll just go get it."

  I blinked.

  He laughed. "As long as they live outside this dusty nowhere, I can make portals anywhere to north or east, and we have plenty of hands to bring it back."

  I closed my eyes, and saw it all unfold. It seemed too easy. "Just like that? Just slip out the back and bring home their supplies?"

  "And food, of course. And anything we need."

  Caleb's shadow blocked the door, and when we turned he didn't move. He seemed distracted, worried. "And what about the wizards with the king?"

  "What about them?" Lareth asked.

  "How much will they interfere with this plan?"