King's Dragon: Chronicles of the Dragon-Bound: Book 2

by William Culbertson

  Captain Baffen knelt and laid his sword at the man’s feet. “I am Captain Layo Baffen. I surrender myself and my command to you, for I have led these lancers not into battle against our enemy, but in retreat. I left many, including our king, to perish or be captured at the hands of the Tharans. I expect no mercy for myself, but I ask that you look with forbearance on the lancers who followed me out of loyalty.” The captain did not meet the commander’s eyes. He kept his head down in shame.

  Commander Daxdendraig said nothing for a time. Frohliem’s Shield caught the light as the commander’s eyes swept over the mass of mounted lancers. Exhausted as he was, Renald felt the impact of the man’s gaze. The commander looked down into his very soul. Renald was surprised by what he felt. As hopeless as he had been for the last two days, the commander’s eyes had touched a hidden spirit deep inside. He took a deep breath.

  The commander bent down and picked up Baffen’s sword. “Stand up, and look at me,” the commander said quietly to their captain. When Baffen stood, the commander said gently, “You fled a battle you could not win. We know you went against a great dragon. You would have died to a man had you continued the fight.” The commander handed Baffen back his sword. He reached out and clasped Baffen’s shoulder. “You will need this, Captain.” The commander’s voice was firm. “Your tactical retreat has brought me four hundred lancers to defend our city. Well done, sir!”

  With that, the commander stepped back and saluted. Captain Baffen returned the salute automatically. The commander then raised his voice, and it carried to all the gathered riders. “Lancers of East Landly! Your city is in need, and you are truly welcome. Captain Baffen is still your commander. He will lead you once more.” He paused. “You will ride once more in defense of your city and your kingdom.” The commander paused long enough for Renald to think about what he had just said. The commander looked slowly around the assembled riders, and after he had looked at each man in turn, he said, “You will ride—once more—with honor! And glory!”

  Renald’s heart beat faster in his chest. He straightened in the saddle.

  The commander raised Frohliem’s Shield into the air where all could see and shouted the ritual chant, “Lancers will mount!”

  “Mount!” shouted all who muster a voice. Renald had hardly said two words in the last two days. His first attempt was a hoarse croak. He coughed.

  “Lancers will ride!”

  “Ride!” Renald’s voice did not break this time. It was good to shout.

  “Lancers will conquer!”

  “Conquer!” Renald could scarcely hear his own voice in the roar from the surrounding riders.

  Chapter 17

  There was no time to prepare. Dax stood at the edge of Magnon’s Gully, his heels on the lip of the dry wash. He watched the enormous beast approach. The drakon’s strides were as long as man was tall. Dax sensed the twenty-foot drop at his back. He knew the fire would come. Nervously he gripped his sword in his sweaty hands. The Tharan army swarmed behind the dragon. Their jeering calls carried over the heavy footfalls of the dragon.

  The dragon had fixed its stare at Dax as it approached, but suddenly, it looked up. Kahshect flashed overhead! For a moment hope fluttered in Dax’s breast, but the drakon unleashed a titanic blast of fire. The flames caught Kahshect even as he flew. Dax watched helplessly as his bondmate fell heavily to the ground. The drakon turned its attention back to Dax. Anna stood right beside him. She screamed. The dragon’s beady eyes narrowed. It cocked its head back, and another gout of flame erupted—this time directly at Dax. He raised his shield and involuntarily stepped back. He toppled back into space, falling . . .

  #

  Dax sat up. His heart pounded. He let out a long sigh into the darkness of the night. Kahshect nuzzled him with his nose. “That was a bad one, wasn’t it?”

  Dax took a deep breath. His heart slowed. “Just the usual mortal terror for my life.” He took another deep breath. His heartbeat slowed a little more. “Although this time the drakon knocked you from the sky with his fire before I fell into Magnon’s Gully.”

  “Ha! You were certainly dreaming, for no drakon would get the better of me that easily.”

  The flow of confidence from Kahshect helped calm him. “What hour of the night is it?” he asked.

  “Not that long until dawn.” The fuddlement of sleep was slow to leave Dax’s head. He could not gather his thoughts. Kahshect shifted beside him. “The Tharans should be here in a day, maybe two,” the dragon observed.

  “Right.” Dax stood up and wiped sweat from his forehead. After that last dream, he did not want to go back to sleep—as if he could with that image still seared in his mind. “Anyone stirring?”

  “The cooks have the fires going for breakfast.”

  “Time to start the day then.” Dax headed toward the camp. Doke and Narsus were curled up under their blankets nearby. He nudged Narsus awake with his foot as he passed to let the men know he was up and about.

  Now that the sleep had left his head, Dax remembered their situation with distressing clarity. The Tharans were coming, and East Landly was not ready. He knew that. He also knew there was no way they could be ready for an attack led by a monstrous, fire-breathing drakon. However, yesterday, as he rode back from Magnon’s Gully with a battalion-size detachment of lancers at his back, for the first time, he saw a glimmer of hope.

  Could they hold back the army Thara had sent against them? It all depended on whether he and Kahshect could dispatch the drakon. With the destructive power of the Tharans’ dragon gone, a battalion of lancers would create chaos in the Tharan army. Scarlet had estimated the Tharans had brought only four thousand men against them. A fair number of those had to be dragon handlers and supply personnel. They would all fight, but the Tharans had at most twenty-five hundred hardened warriors. With the drakon, they were unstoppable. But without?

  Scarlet was already in the mess tent when he got there. Dax picked up a bowl of oat porridge and put a scoop of red berries on top. He sat down next to Scarlet. “Up early,” he ventured when his friend did not say anything.

  After a minute, Scarlet said, “I want to go back and fight at her side.”

  “Pulla?”

  Scarlet nodded. “She and Pulchra are with Markadamous. They are raiding as the Tharans come, but they will be on the north side of the road behind them by the time the Tharans get to the city.”

  Dax nodded and thought as he took a mouthful of the porridge. “We’re not short of field commanders for the units we have in the city. If we can’t take care of the drakon, it won’t matter if we have the deadly Scarlet Blade of Iron Moor here or not.”

  Finally Scarlet looked at him and smiled. “Where did that name come from?”

  “Some of your sparring buddies.”

  Scarlet gave a short laugh. “No swear words in that title?”

  “I left those out.”

  “So you don’t have any objections to me going back to the Ugori?”

  “No,” Dax answered, “I think it might be a good idea. If we manage to turn back the Tharans, the Ugori can deliver a heavy counter blow and disrupt their retreat . . . especially if they have good tactical leadership.” Dax smiled and chucked Scarlet on the shoulder. “Plus, your future father-in-law would want you there.”

  Scarlet looked at him blankly for a moment, then he shook his head. “How do you know these things?”

  “I wish I could claim deep insight, but it has been pretty obvious you and Pulla are serious.” He hesitated briefly. “Besides, Pulla spoke to me some time ago about it.”

  For a time Scarlet did not seem to know what to say. Finally he pushed his bowl aside. “All right, but I’m a professional. If you order me to stay, I will serve at your side in whatever capacity you give me.”

  Dax smiled more broadly. “I’ve already said you can go, so go. I really do think you will help us by working with the Ugori, but I couldn’t resist giving you a nudge or two.”

  Scarlet snorted and we
nt back to his breakfast. “You are uncommonly playful for a man who plans to poke a stick into a fire-breathing dragon tomorrow or the next day.”

  Playful? Dax did not feel playful, but Scarlet’s comment made him think. He was looking forward to the chance to pit himself against a dragon. No, he reminded himself, he was going to pit himself and Kahshect against a drakon. Since he had made the decision to kill the drakon, his uncertainty was gone. He had a plan. He was focused on carrying it out. With that focus came confidence. He thought their chances for success were good, even though the task terrified him.

  Dax took a few more bites of porridge. “I’d appreciate it if you would stick around until after the last tactical planning meeting we’re going to have at noon.”

  Before he could add one last thought, Scarlet broke in. “And yes, I remember I should tell the Ugori to watch the top of the Sunset Tower for the beacon they’ll light when the dragon is dead. When it lights, attack, attack, attack.” Scarlet paused for a moment and looked at Dax. “And if there is no beacon . . .” He paused and looked down. “If the city falls, we will harry what Tharans we can find, but the Ugori need to see to the defense of their own lands in Ugor.”

  Dax chose to ignore the negative option. “Thank you for carrying word. I sent out a messenger yesterday, but when we need a coordinated strike, I don’t like to leave anything to chance.”

  “Markadamous will be ready to strike. Count on that.”

  Dax smiled ruefully. “I am.”

  “So the plan is still the same? You’re going to let the drakon cross the bridge?”

  This was the heart of the plan, and Dax had given it a lot of thought. “I have to lure the drakon into a trap and take it by surprise. The best position is there. Whatever Tharan forces cross the bridge before the dragon will march toward the city rather than spread around behind me.”

  “You still don’t think Achelis’s idea would work?”

  Captain Achelis had suggested the idea of reducing the drakon’s threat by having Kahshect draw the drakon’s fire before the Tharans even crossed the bridge. Dax nodded. “Timed right, that could disrupt the Tharan forces, but it wouldn’t eliminate the threat. Another day’s grazing, and the drakon would be just as dangerous as before. Plus, the Tharans would know they faced a draig-human pair. They would be wary of a trap.”

  Dax spooned up the last of his porridge. “The one variable we won’t know in advance is how many Tharans will cross the bridge onto Commander Baffen’s killing field. The more the better. He can still chase them down if they don’t cross, but if the lancers get to charge into a concentrated group . . .” He looked up at Scarlet and smiled. “Thank you for taking me through it one more time. The more I talk and think about it, the better prepared I will be.”

  “And the more I’ll feel like you really do know what you’re doing,” Scarlet added.

  Since Scarlet was leaving, he and Dax made their farewells as they finished breakfast. They had fought many battles together—usually side by side. In the coming conflict, they would be separated. Dax would not let himself think about the possibility this might be a final farewell. Instead, after Scarlet left, Dax buried himself in his morning meetings. Most went quickly as Dax received final updates on preparations for the next day.

  #

  Dax was busy at midmorning when a stir went through the halls of the palace. He looked up from the table where he was reviewing the updated final plan for the barricade in front of West Gate and the bracing that would be dropped in place behind the massive wooden barrier once the last of the long iron pikes were firmly embedded in the rubble pile outside. Whatever came against it, the gate would be stoutly defended.

  Captain Achelis poked his head inside the room. “Sir, a body of troops has arrived at the city—from the East,” he added quickly as he noted Dax’s look of concern. “I think it’s the detachment from Akomak.”

  Akomak? And they were early. Here at last was a small piece of good news. Queen Layna had said their neighbors up the coast would send a small force. Fortune had allowed them to arrive before the Tharans.

  “I saw ten score coming down the coast road earlier this morning,” Kahshect observed. The dragon was back from flying a periodic scouting missions around a large perimeter centered on Frohliem City. Although they prepared for the Tharans coming down the West Road, Dax did not want any unexpected surprises.

  “Thank you,” Dax thought in return.

  “Very good, Captain,” Dax said to his aide. “Have the cooks prepare food and drink for about three hundred, and find a place for them to camp this evening. Try to get their leader to the meeting this noon.” Since dragons did not have great skill at counting, Dax had raised the numbers to be sure the accommodations would be sufficient. Besides, men who had been on the march for days would be hungry and eat all that was put before them.

  Captain Achelis stared at Dax in openmouthed amazement. Although the man was Dax’s second in command, Dax had not had time to brief him on how his bond with Kahshect could sometimes make him seem clairvoyant. Dax smiled. “It was my dragon. He saw them coming earlier and told me what he’d seen.”

  Captain Achelis still looked uncertain, but he nodded and said, “Very good, sir,” before he backed out of the room.

  Before Dax could go back to planning, Kahshect added, “Treyhorn is coming.”

  Was this good news, or would Treyhorn insist on trying to dissuade him from his plan? “And?”

  The dragon gave a mental shrug. “Namkafnir knows she is worried.”

  “As am I.” Dax would hear her out when she arrived, but until then he had to get back to work.

  #

  Bindle Treyhorn arrived that evening. She had been in southern West Landly when she got word of the Tharans and their dragon and had come at once. Dax was on hand to greet her at the clearing when she landed. Dax had brought Captain Achelis and two other members of his planning team along with him. Although he did not look forward to explaining his plan to Treyhorn, Dax wanted the others to have a chance to see a drakon in the flesh before the Tharans led one across the bridge.

  After a quick introduction, Treyhorn went with them to see the drakon. As they walked to the edge of the field where the drakon grazed happily on the foliage, she fell in alongside Dax. “You really are going to do this, aren’t you?”

  Dax shrugged. “If you have a better plan, I’ll listen.”

  “At least let me help.”

  He looked at her small frame. Although she was as tough as whipcord, Treyhorn was not a warrior. “If you were a head taller, fifty pounds heavier, and a trained fighter, I would take you up on the offer.” He held up his hand when she started to reply. “Right now I need another opinion from someone who knows dragons.”

  They stopped beside the drakon. Its shoulders were taller than a man, and its body was wider than it was deep. They all walked around the beast, looking at it from all angles, but the docile creature ignored them. It uprooted a small bush and placidly chewed on it. Dax stepped close and ran his hands across its broad chest. The skin was tough and leathery, but it was not like the hardened, gnarled hide on its back, shoulders, and tail. He pressed, and the surface gave. Deep within, Dax felt the heavy beat of the drakon’s heart. The Tharans’ drakon was not just a weapon of war. It was a living animal, and he was going to kill it. The thought did not make him feel better.

  During their examination, Dax paid particular attention to the horns that projected three feet out from its forehead. At what angle would it carry those horns when it was protecting itself? He turned to Treyhorn. “Is Namkafnir nearby?” he asked.

  “Not far. Why?”

  “I need to see the drakon in a defensive posture.” He briefly sketched the details of his planned attack.

  She nodded. “Saying it might work would be generous, but at least it sounds feasible.” She sighed. “So, what do you want him to do?”

  Although the drakons used by the dragon-bound were accustomed to being near drai
gs, the two species were still natural enemies. Dax called everyone well back to the other edge of the clearing before he told Treyhorn to call in Namkafnir. As they watched, Namkafnir swooped in and landed a hundred feet from the drakon. The drakon looked around to watch the smaller draig, but it went on eating. Namkafnir roared. The sound resounded inside Dax’s chest. The drakon whipped about to face the smaller dragon. Head down, its horns pointed directly at the draig. It pawed the ground. Before it could charge, Namkafnir raised his wings and, with a great gust of wind, flew away.

  “Brass balls, I tell ya.” Doke’s comment broke the silence. “It’s either the brass balls he’s got, or the half-brain he don’t.” After a brief pause, Doke added, “No offense intended, sir.”

  Captain Achelis shook his head. “The wisdom of enlisted men.” He looked at Dax. “You still think this will work?”

  Dax knew his plan could work. But could he make it work? A drakon was a huge beast, and he would only get one try. He spread his arms open, palms toward them. “Please,” he urged, “I will listen to other suggestions.”

  #

  The Tharans had not traveled as fast as mounted lancers, but now they were near. Kahshect had kept him apprised of their progress. At Dax’s daily strategy meeting, he pressed everyone hard to be ready. That afternoon Dax headed out to Magnon’s Gully to make his own preparations.

  Yesterday Dax had ordered a team out to burn the brush north of the road near the bridge. He would set his trap near the bridge itself, but he did not want to draw attention to that spot. The trees still stood, but now the scrub growth was ash and the ground was open. Gray dust covered his boots, and charred sticks crunched underfoot. He looked at the angle to the bridge, the slope of the ground, and the positions of the standing trees. “Here and here.” He slapped the trunks of two large, denuded trees. The two trees would guide the drakon along an easy way off the road. “Fell these on an open angle toward the bridge like this.” He pointed the direction he wanted each to lay. After several minutes, Lieutenant Drayton and the six lumbermen in his crew were clear on the exact lines he wanted.