Dragon Dawn

by Mark E. Cooper

  “Shut up!” the guard snarled.

  Methrym sneered. What was he going to do, kill him? “When the God asks you to account for your life, tell him you did your duty!”

  The guard shoved him forward. Methrym staggered, but managed to find his footing before falling in the mud. There had been so much blood spilled upon the ground that it had turned into a quagmire. He wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of crawling to his own execution. He walked, his head high and unafraid. What was there to fear in death? Nothing. The pain of the axe would be fleeting, and he had done his duty.

  “Hold him a moment!”

  Methrym turned to see another Imperial soldier approaching. A man of high rank, he assumed, as the guard obeyed instantly by pulling him out of the line. Another prisoner took his place at the block without pause. He didn’t know his name. Methrym frowned at the dragon rider walking beside the officer, the leathers he wore were unmistakable, but it was to the boy he pushed ahead of him that his eyes were drawn. It was Robyn, his signaller. The lad had not escaped after all.

  “Is this your master, boy? Is this Methrym?” the officer said.

  Robyn remained stubbornly silent.

  Methrym smiled, and nodded, giving his permission to answer.

  Robyn, tears streaming from his eyes nodded back, straightening his shoulders he said, “This is Methrym; War Leader of the greatest host Tanjung has ever fielded!”

  The officer didn’t react to Robyn’s defiance. He simply nodded, and turned to the guard. “Bring me this one’s head packed in salt for a long journey. I promised Talitha his head, and I keep my promises.” He turned to walk away, but then paused and turned back to regard the gruesome hill. He nodded thoughtfully. “Find some carts and send the rest to her as they are. The bloodthirsty bitch should enjoy their fragrance by the time they reach the city.”

  The guard snapped to attention. “As you command!”

  The officer nodded, and went back to his tent.

  “Who is he?” Methrym said, before the guard could carry out his orders.

  The dragon rider cocked his head at Methrym, then shrugged and said, “He is High Lord Teirnon, Lord of House Arebus and right hand to Empress Marzina.”

  Methrym pursed his lips then shook his head. “Never heard of him.” His men burst out laughing even as they approached the block and their deaths.

  The dragon rider smiled. “It is a name all Waiparisa will come to fear. Count yourself fortunate that you die now, and will not see all you hold dear brought to ruin.”

  That hit too close to Methrym’s own fears, and he could not summon the will to retort. The guard pushed him to the front of the waiting prisoners, and kicked his legs out from under him. He landed on his knees before the gore covered tree stump. He didn’t fight as the guard pushed his cheek onto it and held him there for the headsman’s axe. He tried to reassure Robyn with a final smile, but couldn’t find it within himself at the last.

  His thoughts were far away with Vexin when he felt the bite of the axe.

  * * *

  12 ~ Devarr

  Gydrid reached Devarr to find the city awash in lords and their guardsmen. The lake was full of ships under various banners, and the docks were crowded. Gydrid pointed out Lethbridge’s banner among the ships.

  “He really did come to Devarr. Somehow I thought he would not.”

  Analise nodded. “But where are his levies?”

  Gydrid stood in his stirrups to stare out over the thousands of tents that had sprung up outside the walls of the city. He could see that the southern lords had arrived before him, and knew he would suffer his father’s displeasure. He was supposed to be representing his brother and Meilan, yet the lords traditionally bound to follow Meilan into battle had preceded him to Devarr.

  Analise noticed his tension. “The south is well represented. Are they all here?”

  “Seems like, but where is the west?”

  “I can’t see one banner from the western marches. Can you?”

  Just then, Gydrid found two and was glad. “There see? Ascol is here and… I think that is Lomond.”

  “Where?”

  “There see?” Gydrid pointed. “And that is Lord Mayenne, or I’ve never seen him.”

  Lord Mayenne was sparring with one of his men. Analise blushed when she realised they were stripped to the waist. Gydrid smiled and looked away. He coughed trying not to laugh and she glared at him. The next moment they were laughing together.

  “I must visit with him while we are here.” Gydrid mused. “He’s very good with that monster he calls a sword. He might try to whack me with it if I ask him nicely.”

  Analise chuckled. “You know how to use a sword. Don’t pretend to be helpless.”

  “I am helpless,” Gydrid protested with a grin. “I can be helpless.”

  “You can be mad—you are mad!”

  A little further along, they left the road. Gydrid chose a good campsite and Analise concurred when he asked if she would have her men set their camp beside his. Ballard and Dorjan conferred together before both bellowed orders to unpack the baggage.

  Gydrid stood beside Analise to watch the camp being raised. “I must visit my father. He will be angry enough with me for being late. I dare not let news of my arrival reach him before my visit.”

  “He is a good king. He will understand.”

  “He is good, but he will still be angry. I didn’t lie when I told Lethbridge he would rue breaking faith with my father. Some of the lords have tried to beg off from raising their forces. By not coming promptly, I have embarrassed him.”

  “It’s not as bad as that,” Analise protested.

  “Forgive me, Analise, but it is that bad. Many will say that if his son failed to come when called, why should they come?”

  “You’re here now,” Analise pointed out.

  “Yes, that at least is good,” Gydrid said sombrely. “I think I erred in following you to Chaidren Ridge. I should have come straight to Devarr from Atherton.”

  He had accompanied Analise home hoping to talk her out of leaving for Devarr. He had insisted that he could deliver Anah’s letters, but she would have none of it. It took days to reach Chaidren Ridge and another two to ready Chaidren’s levies for the trip to Devarr; days during which he had fretted about the delay, but he could not abandon her to the road.

  Analise had been very subdued at the start of the journey. He had tried to coax her out of the black depression that had come upon her, but his words had seemed to fall on deaf ears. He had tried to distract her with light-hearted quips and converse, but she ignored his attempts. It wasn’t until he gave up and pulled out his book that she seemed to notice his presence. She had asked a question, he had answered, and that had led to him reading a few passages to her. He had enjoyed himself immensely while his father had fretted—beset on all sides by disobedient lords. All because his son had failed him.

  Gydrid scowled. “I should have ridden straight here.”

  “Perhaps you should have, but I’m glad you came with me. Watching them die was… harder than I thought it would be.”

  Gydrid nodded remembering the execution. It had been ghastly for him, how much worse then must it have been for a gentle lady such as Analise? He had known what to expect, but though Analise had obviously thought she knew what it would be like, she had been wrong. Ballard’s wish to strike the brigands down with his sword would have been more merciful—cleaner. It hadn’t happened that way. They were hung as brigands always were when caught, and their bodies were left on display for the rest of the day as a warning to others.

  “I thought it would be a quick death.”

  Gydrid nodded. “Sometimes it is.”

  “He stared at me… while he strangled I mean, he stared right at me.”

  “Don’t lady. Try not to think about it. His grief had maddened him—it can happen,” Gydrid said, trying not to see the man struggling at the end of the rope.

  He could still smell the stink of urine a
s the brigand pissed himself. Hanging was a bad way to die. The indignity, the fear, and the ghastly struggle to breathe were a deterrent. A clean death at the point of a sword was infinitely preferable, and never used to execute a brigand because of that.

  Gydrid distracted himself from his unhappy thoughts by watching his men drive the carts off the road and assemble them hub to hub in neat ranks. It took a lot of equipment to keep three thousand guardsmen in the field, and many carts to carry it all. They had three hundred ten man tents, farrier’s tools including an anvil and a small supply of iron to use upon it, food and cooking pots to feed their entire force—enough for a season if they rationed it. They had sacks of oats to supplement the horses’ grazing, leather for patching armour and ready-made rings for same. They had cured leather for patching shields, polishing stones to sharpen daggers and swords, and two huge carts brim full of cloth yard shafts for their bows. Analise of course had her own baggage carts to add to the mix, including everything Ballard felt necessary for fifteen hundred heavy cavalry.

  War was a serious undertaking and Gydrid was not alone in thinking so. He had thirty-five heavy carts with wide rimmed wheels to distribute the load, and they were barely adequate for the task. Lord Purcell would have a similar number and so would any of the others with like numbers of guardsmen. Gydrid could see a disaster looming as they tried to move the army along rough roads followed by hundreds of carts. The carts would be slower than the cavalry, but faster than the infantry; they would be strung out for leagues. Carts would bog down on roads turned to mud. Axles and wheels would break. Roads would become impassable as the army bogged down…

  Gydrid stared at the camps grimly. It would happen. The army would be slow. In fact, the army would move at the pace of the slowest cart and no help for it… His eyes narrowed, or was there?

  Gydrid spun on his heel and stared at Lethbridge’s ships. “I have to see the King,” he murmured as his thoughts raced.

  “Wait!” Analise shouted at Gydrid’s back as he hurried away. “I shall accompany you. I must pay my respects.”

  “And ask him for Chaidren?”

  Analise nodded. “I know what he will likely say, but Chaidren is my home. Mine.”

  “Come then. To horse, lady.”

  They entered the King’s presence to find him already attended by Lord Halden—the well respected Lord of Mayenne. With him were Lords Lethbridge and Atherton. Both men were arguing while Gylaren looked on in bored silence. When Gydrid escorted Analise into the hall, the argument broke off and all eyes turned toward them. Gylaren’s face brightened for a moment, Gydrid was sure he had seen it, but then a moment later the welcome he saw there was gone. It was Gylaren the King he faced now, not his father.

  Gydrid stopped a respectful distance from the dais and bowed. “My King, I bring three thousand cavalry to your cause, and convey to you my Lord Niklaus’ love and deepest respect. He would wish to be here in person, but by your order and matters most urgent, he is unable to attend. I offer myself in his place.”

  Gylaren was stone faced. “Welcome, Lord Gydrid. Late though they be, your forces are most welcome.”

  “I apologise for that, my lord King.”

  Analise curtsied. “On behalf of Chaidren Ridge, I bring fifteen hundred heavy cavalry to Deva’s defence, my King. I also have letters from the Lady of Atherton, my lord. I believe they may have relevance to your current discussion.”

  Gylaren stood and descended the dais. “Indeed lady?” He took the letters. “You are most welcome here. We have much to speak of.”

  “Thank you, your majesty.” Analise glanced at Gydrid. “Your son is a credit to you, my lord. He has been most charming and accommodating in such a trying time.”

  Gydrid couldn’t help gaping. Analise had protested his presence and meddling many times. She had given him the impression that she was tolerating his presence not welcoming of it.

  “…your father. He shall be greatly missed,” Gylaren was saying. “I shall have rooms in the palace prepared for you. You and your ladies will want for nothing while here in Devarr.”

  “Thank you your majesty, but I am here alone but for my guardsmen.”

  Gylaren frowned and the silence stretched out. A noble lady journeying across the land in the company of men was hardly a seemly state of affairs. He glanced at Gydrid who took the opportunity to speak of what was troubling him.

  “My king, what of the war? I have heard little news since last we spoke via the mirror. Has Julia held the enemy at the border? Is that why the lords remain camped outside the walls?”

  “If you had made haste as I ordered, Lord Gydrid, you would be better informed of the situation,” Gylaren said haughtily. He glanced meaningfully at the other lords present. “I have no word from Julia. Malcor has been evacuated, and Jihan continues to monitor the border.”

  Malcor evacuated… Gydrid felt a chill pass through him. Jihan had taken a bold step in abandoning his fortress. That he thought it necessary wasn’t a surprise to Gydrid, but his haste suggested they had little time left. The decision to avoid a siege at Malcor was one Gydrid happened to agree with, but many would not and they would criticise Jihan for his decision. When it became known that Deva’s first move in the war was to evacuate its strongest fortress in favour of retreat, there would be panic among the commoners and dismay among the lords.

  “The peace will not last, your majesty,” Gydrid said. “When do we march?”

  Halden nodded. “I too wish to speak of the war. Docking fees, though undoubtedly a pressing matter, can surely wait until the security of the realm’s borders is assured.”

  “That’s easy for you to say, Mayenne. You have no ships!” Lethbridge snarled. “Trade is the lifeblood of my lands. My ships are all I have!”

  Halden shook his head. “What good are ships when Hasians lay siege at your gates, Owain?”

  “What will happen when the army does march north?” Gydrid said, trying to steer the conversation away from trade. “I will tell you. It will be a disaster!”

  Gylaren glared. “What are you saying? You have been here barely half a day and already you would take charge of my army? Speak plainly, Gydrid.”

  “Plainly?” Gydrid said in amazement. He thought it obvious what he was talking about. “Very well, my lord, I speak plainly. I have thirty five heavily laden carts with me, without which my men cannot live or fight.” He waved a hand at the other lords. “These worthies have similar baggage trains. How long will it take to march north on bad roads trailing hundreds of carts? It will be a disaster, your majesty. We will be lucky if we reach the vicinity of Malcor this season, let alone in time to contest the Hasian advance.”

  Halden nodded, Gylaren frowned. Lethbridge glared, angry about Gydrid’s usurpation of the conversation.

  “Ships!” Analise said to Gydrid. “That’s what you meant earlier.”

  Gydrid nodded. “There are a great many ships in the harbour, many of them Lethbridge traders.”

  “What of it?” Lethbridge said. “My ships visit many places.”

  “Exactly! The army will move faster—much faster—without the baggage to weigh them down. We must embark the baggage aboard the ships and have them sail north immediately.”

  Gylaren seemed intrigued by the idea. “Hmmm. You would have me lead the army north without supplies?”

  “Yes father. The ships can create supply caches all along the route to Malcor. Each man must carry the minimum necessary to reach them.”

  Lethbridge glared. “Preposterous! You will have every peasant and brigand stealing us blind!”

  Halden patted the air, gesturing to calm Lethbridge’s anger. “Be not so hasty, Owain. I believe Gydrid is onto something here. I’m sure we can guard the supplies against a few brigands.”

  Lethbridge scowled. “My ships can’t land just anywhere. They need deep harbours or landing stages that reach into the deep waters of the river.”

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” Gydrid admitted. �
��Your ships are large enough to carry a strong contingent of guardsmen to protect the supplies, and they carry plenty of sail. That means they’re more than big enough for what I have in mind. That solves one problem. The matter of unloading can be solved using flat bottomed barges.”

  “There are a goodly number here just now,” Lord Atherton remarked.

  “I noticed.” Gydrid smiled. “We can load the supplies aboard Ascol’s barges—assuming he’s agreeable of course, and Lord Owain’s ships can tow them north. The barges can be unloaded without docks.”

  “An excellent plan, do you not agree, Gy?” Halden asked. “We can send the empty carts north using the smaller roads. They will be ready to move the supplies between the caches and the army whenever we need them. They’ll not interfere with the march.”

  “A fine plan, son.” Gylaren clapped Gydrid on the shoulder. “We’ll do it that way. The army will march as soon as the first caches are ready.”

  “You should assemble the lords and instruct them to move their supplies to the docks, Gy,” Halden said, already looking for things that could go wrong, “We can’t have them doing it all at once.”

  “I will arrange that.” Gylaren turned to Lethbridge. “I’m sorry, Owain, but I must put aside the matter of docking fees. You have brought very few guardsmen with you. If you agree, I shall accept your ships to make up the short fall.”

  Lethbridge glared at Gydrid then bowed to the king. “Most kind, Majesty. May I suggest, however, that I be allowed to command this new endeavour?”

  He slapped Lethbridge’s shoulder. “You certainly can my friend! I can think of no one better suited to command the ships. Perhaps you can suggest the best locations along the river for our needs.”

  Lethbridge beamed at the King’s praise. “I know every inch of our rivers, Majesty. I will fetch my charts and return. By your leave?”

  “Make haste my friend.”

  Lethbridge bowed. “I shall.”

  Gydrid watched Lethbridge stride away and turned back to see his father’s pleasant smile fall away.