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

by William Culbertson

  The men dropped the trees exactly where he had requested. The third tree was harder because Dax wanted it to lay across the end of the path between the first two trees but with only the end farthest from the bridge laid up across the guide tree. The third tree was in an awkward position, but the men cut it so it turned as it fell and landed across both trees. Once it was down, they rigged two lines to the end of the trunk and pulled it off the second tree and into position. Dax stood and looked at the alignment. He pictured the drakon charging down from the road into the open V of felled trees. As it came, it should turn toward the lower side of the tree lying across the end—the spot where Dax would be waiting with the harpoon.

  “Mr. Drayton,” he called. “We’ll tie the end of the snare rope around the stump of the far tree. At this end, I need a wall of dirt laid up along the side of this tree.” Dax nodded to Narsus who stood nearby. “Will that do?”

  “Yes, sir.” Narsus nodded. “That rope’s a good sight bigger than what Pappy used to use, but when that big lizard comes over the end of that tree, Doke and I will have him lookin’ at the sky instead of at you.”

  “Good.” Dax turned back to the lieutenant. “Rough up the rest of the area and pile the roadside with enough burned scrub so this doesn’t look fresh.”

  The others set to work, and Dax worked right alongside them. He, more than anyone, wanted the site to be perfect. The crew was good, and in a short while, Dax was satisfied with the physical layout of the trap.

  #

  Dax entered the large meeting room he had taken over for his command center. The sun had reached its apex in the sky. The last grains of sand were running through the glass. His top officers along with their support staffs waited. The time for preparations was over. Just before the meeting, a rider had brought news that Tharan scouts were on Breyman’s Hill with the main body of the force close behind.

  Before he said anything, he looked around the room and wondered which of these people would be alive when this was over. His own fate he would trust to preparation and skill. He would do what he said he would do, but his future lay in the hands of the Goddess in her Serendipitous Aspect. Years ago when he had been frightened and alone of the streets of Tazzelton in West Landly, the Great Mother of the temple had told him the Goddess had a plan for him, a path to follow. A few months ago, she had told him the path led east. He was on the path, but was this the right turning?

  He waited until the room quieted. “They have arrived.” After the announcement, he paused, waiting for comments. No one said a thing. Everyone must be ready, he thought.

  “Or they are scared speechless.”

  Mildly amused at the dragon’s comment, Dax was in good spirits. The time for a hundred meetings and a thousand details was over. The time for action had arrived. Dax smiled. “They will most likely make camp tonight on Breyman’s Hill.”

  “Will we sortie this evening?” asked Captain Baffen.

  “No, I don’t want the Tharans thinking about the lancers before we can strike a hammer blow.”

  Captain Torrage asked the next question. “How about if I send a few archers out after dark to drop some arrows into their camp? I have night stalkers from the eastern bogs who would enjoy a challenge.”

  “Keep the Tharans up all night?” Dax smiled broadly. “I like it. Just make sure they avoid the sentries and keep moving.”

  “Will they attack tomorrow?” Captain Baffen again.

  After a moment’s thought, Dax answered, “Yes. Their force is not that large. They marched at a good pace from the pass, but they have not had any hard fighting . . . yet.” He nodded grimly, thinking of what he had heard from the remaining lancers. “As long as their dragon is ready, I expect to see them sometime in the morning hours.”

  Dax was about to launch into one last review of the detailed battle plan when he was interrupted by Ruf Tanny, head of the royal engineers.

  “Sir, beggin’ your pardon, but how many timbers do you want us to take out of the main West Road bridge over Magnon’s Gully?”

  For a moment Dax looked at the man blankly. Finally he realized the import of the question. In the past, the city’s first line of defense from the west had been Magnon’s Gully. Everyone knew the story of the early days of the eastern kingdom, King Emmet had ruined the first charge of the rebel Chammanie cavalry by luring them onto a weakened bridge, which collapsed under the weight of the horses.

  “No, no!” Dax said quickly. “I want that bridge intact and able to hold the weight of the dragon. It’s the key to getting it exactly where I want it.” This was Tanny’s first planning meeting, and he had not heard any details of what was to come.

  Tanny looked horrified. “Sir, I need to leave immediately. I already have a team at the bridge taking out supports. With time gettin’ short, I thought we should best get started.”

  The Tharans were on Breyman’s Hill, and they could be watching. Dax nodded. “Yes, go, but have your people work from down in the gully and stay out of sight. I don’t want the Tharans getting any ideas there is something special about that bridge.” He thought for another moment. “Once you have the bridge shored up to support the dragon, have someone set up a hide for me under the east end. I want to rest there tonight so I can set up in the morning well before the Tharans decide to cross the bridge.”

  “Yes, sir.” The man bobbed his head once. He turned to go, and every step was faster than the one before. As he passed through the door, Tanny was running.

  Dax turned back to the rest of the assembly and mentally chided himself for not having thought about the engineers earlier. However, Tanny had not had much time weaken the structure. They could almost certainly restore the bridge supports—he hoped.

  Part by parcel by piece, Dax took everyone through the plan to make sure they knew their roles and how everything fit together. In spite of all the details, the overall strategy was relatively straightforward. He looked over to see Treyhorn quietly listening from the back of the room. She reminded him of Renshau, and he thought about his time at Iron Moor. The commandant liked to say, “The war god loves to perplex the complex—keep it simple, cadets!”

  The heart of the plan was focused on the drakon. Once on the east side of the bridge, Kahshect would feign an attack from the north. Dax depended on the drakon’s natural reaction to charge Kahshect, and as it charged into the area they had cleared, Dax would spear it . . . If it charged . . . If no Tharans saw him waiting . . . If he was correctly positioned to strike . . . If he could hit the dragon in its vulnerable chest . . .

  Dax shook his head, impatient with his undisciplined thoughts. This was going to work. It had to work.

  The only new idea he unveiled at the meeting was his plan to use the men from Akomak as a decoy to draw the Tharans into a disorganized charge across the bridge. He did not want the Tharans to cross in good order and marshal an organized attack on the city. The sooner he got the Tharan leader away from his plan of attack, the better. Captain Torrage, for his part, did not like the role his men would have to play. The Akomak troops would have to retreat in the face of the enemy, but Dax had convinced Torrage of the wisdom of the idea. Torrage had agreed it could help the cause and had promised his men would do their part. Dax summarized the sequence of events one more time before the meeting broke up.

  Dax met with Armond Pegman next. The man was a smith who served the fishing fleet, and he knew all about harpoons. Dax had visited his shop three times, and now Pegman had arrived with his final product. Pegman handed a long spear to Dax. “Made three more . . . different length, weight, balance. Thought I’d let ya see what suits.”

  Captain Achelis ran his hands over the long iron haft. “Is this strong enough?”

  Pegman looked sour at the question. “That’s what I asked your man Dax there,” he said with a wave of his hand. “It’s way-up more than what you’d need to spear a kaluga, but I took a look at that tame dragon out there, and I thinks you’d have an easier time prickin’ a boulder with a
pin.”

  Dax turned the spear in his hands, testing the balance before he gave it a shake to see its flexibility. He turned to Pegman. “You would have to work hard to put a peg through the skin of a dragon, Mr. Pegman,” Dax said. His mouth quirked up in a half smile at his weak little jest, but no one else appeared amused. He nodded at the shaft in his hands. “This harpoon will go into the thinner skin of the dragon’s chest, and the dragon will supply most of the force.” He shrugged. “After that it’s all up to the barbs and the tether.”

  “Now barbs it’s got.” Pegman smiled. He ran his hand down one of the six stiff barbs at the tip of the harpoon carefully avoiding the rearward-pointing spines. “Carapace of a back-saw crab.” He picked at one of the points. “Nasty buggers to catch. Tear your rig all to hell, then slice your hands to the bone when you try to pick them out of it.” He picked up a second spear and rotated it slowly, looking at each barb. “But they will make one bad bitch of a mess inside that dragon when it tries to pull it out.”

  Dax took the third harpoon and hefted it. Like the others, the shaft was long and heavy with a wide plate on the end opposite the point. He would backstop the plate against the ground and point the other end at the drakon’s chest. The charging drakon would impale itself. He held one of the wooden grips near the end and ran his hand up the haft to test its feel. The plate helped balance the long shaft ahead of the grips. Dax sighted along the harpoon. Could he place the point into the chest of the charging dragon accurately? The harpoon was as long as a lance and a good bit heavier. “I need to get a feel for this,” he announced. He handed the weapon back to Pegman. “Would you bring this and the others you made to the lancers’ practice field outside the walls the last hour of this afternoon?”

  “Pleasure, Your Honor.” Pegman bowed and left.

  Pleased with the man’s initiative to make more than one harpoon, Dax dismissed him and signaled for the next meeting.

  #

  Late that afternoon Dax led a small party outside the wall and across to the training yard they had set up for Commander Baffen’s lancers. Baffen had been at the noon meeting, but he was back with his men as they went through their drills one last time.

  Baffen smiled broadly at their approach. “Commander, I didn’t have a chance to thank you at the meeting for the promotion. I’m still not sure I deserve it, but I’m grateful.”

  “Once the dragon is down, you will more than earn it when you cut through the Tharan lines.”

  “Those are your weapons?” Baffen gestured at the harpoons Pegman’s two assistants carried. “They look heavy, but you won’t be using them on horseback.”

  “If I can put it where it needs to go, it should get the job done.” Dax nodded toward the training yard. “Could I have a moment with one of your targets to practice?”

  Immediately Baffen turned and gave a piercing whistle, then shouted, “Lieutenant Hennesy, lanes three and five. Leave number one for me.” The riders turned in response, and their file wheeled away from the nearest target. Baffen gestured. “There you go.”

  Dax approached the target and thought through his attack one more time. He would lie concealed with the harpoon braced and ready, pointed toward the spot the dragon should be. Would be!

  What position should he be in to wield the harpoon? The weapon was long, so Dax’s end would have to relatively low, a kneeling position. Narsus braced the end plate for him while Dax experimented by moving the business end. Its heavy length made it difficult to handle crisply. But then again, the drakon would be coming straight at him, not dodging around like a strakeer hen.

  He practiced getting the harpoon up and pointed at the target from a variety of positions. His arms were tired from the effort of moving the heavy pole, but Dax decided he needed more practice aiming the spear. Looking around, he spotted a duffle full of spare tack and turned to Doke. “Would you take that bag out of range in front and wave it around? I want to practice tracking a moving object.”

  Standing just beyond the reach of the harpoon, Doke made a few tentative swipes back and forth. Dax tracked his movements, but Doke quickly started making Dax work hard at keeping the weapon pointed toward the pack. Dax experimented with each of the different harpoons until he found the one he was the most comfortable with. It was not the longest, but it had a better feel. By the time he was satisfied he could work with the weapon, his arms ached from the strain of wielding the heavy, iron instrument.

  Doke was laughing as well as sweating when he brought the pack back to where he had picked it up. He poked at one of the spears with his foot. “Not spritely enough for jiggin’ frogs now is it?”

  Dax could not help but smile at the man’s good humor. He shook his head. “Frogs, no. Jiggin’ a drakon? Well, I hope so.”

  The man immediately sobered. “Yeah, sure hope so too. Uh, sir.”

  “How many harpoons will you take?” Baffen asked.

  Dax looked at Baffen. “I’m pretty sure I’ll have just the one try,” he observed grimly. He thought some more and decided he should have at least a second harpoon at the ready, just in case he might have an opportunity to use it.

  After watching Dax practice, Pegman’s face was pale. He walked up with one of the discarded weapons and planted the butt on the ground, looking at the tip high overhead. “You really mean to harpoon that beast yourself, don’t you?” The man shook his head. “I just . . . My harpoon . . .”

  “Is there a reason not to trust your work?” Dax fixed the man with a stare.

  “No, no. Nothing like that. It’s just . . .” He looked up at Dax, and Dax could see the anguish in his eyes. “It’s just that I’ve never had anyone’s life depend so much on mah work.”

  Reaching out his hand to the harpoon Pegman held, Dax ran his hand along the haft. “You may not be one of the swordsmiths of Newham,” he said, “but I know good work when I see it. Now all I have to do is my part.” He took the harpoon and, with a lunge, drove it two-handed into the center of the lancer’s target. The tip stuck fast firmly in the center. The die was cast. He was going to do it. Before he could think how much depended on him, he turned away and headed back to the palace.

  #

  Dax stayed with Kahshect the first part of the night. The warm bulk of the dragon comforted him, but he did not think he would sleep much this night. For the moment, he tried to put thoughts of tomorrow out of his head but without success. Aware that he was still awake, Kahshect said, “Namkafnir wants to help.”

  “What? With the drakon tomorrow? What does Treyhorn think of this? Even more important, what trouble would he and Treyhorn be in for violating the Great Treaty?”

  “Calm down,” the dragon replied. “He’s been talking to Treyhorn, and there shouldn’t be any trouble. He will draw the drakon into the trap, but he won’t attack it.”

  Intrigued, Dax asked, “And you?”

  “I know you’ve been worrying about the drakon hitting the harpoon with enough force to get it to penetrate. When it charges Namkafnir, I will land on its back just as it impales itself on your weapon.”

  Dax mulled the idea for a time and said, “Yes, I was worried.” He smiled. “I like your idea. Can you manage the timing close enough?”

  “I will hover above it and drop at the right time. My weight will drive the harpoon home.” Dax knew there was more to come. The dragon was concerned about something. “The drakon will respond with fire, its natural response. We talked before about how your harpoon will make it difficult for the drakon to use his fire effectively.” Dax recalled their conversation, but this would not be the situation they had discussed. He felt Kahshect’s distress as the dragon thought, “When I land on its back, it may force a gusher of fire.”

  The vision of an uncontrolled conflagration of dragon fire gave Dax pause. “How likely?” he finally asked. After a bit, he felt Kahshect’s mental shrug.

  “Well,” Dax said, “we have the dirt berms to protect us. And I have the shield.” But dragon fire? Finally Dax said,
“We’ll take all the precautions we can.” He knew it was not much comfort to the dragon, but it was all he could offer.

  Kahshect shifted, and Dax realized the dragon had turned to look upward. “Birworeth is approaching.”

  The draig Birworeth was bonded to Gadford Rudale. Dax had not talked to the man for a long time. He thought for a moment. Sometime during his cadet years? The tall, thin man had never socialized much with the other dragon-bound, but he was always involved with Conclave. “What brings Rudale this way?” Dax thought.

  “Birworeth was visiting Rudale in Bright Bay when Birworeth felt my presence here. I told him what was happening, and he told Rudale. Rudale is coming by horse down the coast road ahead of the lancer garrison and the Bright Bay foot troops. He should be here in four or five days.”

  “So what does Birworeth think?”

  “He is just as upset about the shameful way the drakon is being used by the Tharans as I am.”

  “That’s pretty upset.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Is he willing to help?” Dax had to ask. Even if Rudale could not be here for some time, another dragon to distract the drakon would be immensely useful.

  “He’s upset, but he’s also worried about the Great Treaty. It’s one thing for me, your bondmate, to help you, but if Birworeth takes action, Birworeth would have to stand the judgment of dragonkind. The Tharan attack is unprecedented. No one knows what the judgment will be.”

  Kahshect was absolutely right, and Dax knew he too faced judgment. “I just wish we knew what the outcome of the battle will be. The judgment I’ll worry about later.”

  “Rudale wants Birworeth to observe the battle and report what the Tharans do. He also wants a report on your actions. Birworeth can be an independent witness at the conclave that decides how to treat the Tharan actions.”