The Red Dragon's Gold

by Joshua K Johnson

  Kasimir shook his head.

  The ten-pound guns were the standard issue artillery for much of the world's infantry. It was a mobile piece that could still cause serious damage to the walls of any fortress that stood against them for too long. The lighter five-pound guns had better range, and were ideal for travel through the hills and mountains of Malkala, but their shells caused too little damage and were ineffective against a large scale attack.

  "What I wouldn't do for a wizard," Jarak said as he checked his haversack. He counted the cartridges inside and closed the satchel.

  "As long as we're asking for things that aren't likely to show up, I'm in for one of those Elven marksmen regiments I was reading about last week," Junior Commander Laslo Purden said with a chuckle. He carried an ivory pipe that oozed thick black smoke.

  "Is your regiment ready?" Kasimir asked.

  "And waiting," Laslo confirmed.

  "We're not likely to get any wizards, or regiments of Elven marksmen, in these parts," Kasimir said, turning back to their conversation.

  "All we can hope for is -"

  "Cavalry approaching from the east!" someone shouted.

  Kasimir hurried to the eastern wall.

  The sun had finally crested the horizon, casting red glow across the open field before the castle. Riders were emerging from the pine forest by the dozens, riding hard toward Fort Demitas.

  The riders wore dull golden uniforms, accented with red tassels and piping. The first group that had emerged from the forest carried a pair of massive banners and Kasimir prayed silently while he tried to determine what sigil was on them. When he could make it out, however, he cursed: a red dragon on a gold field: the banner of the Empire of Chesia.

  "Please, not the dragon," he whispered as he waited for the second banner to unfurl. This one was black, a red dragon's head emblazoned upon it, its massive maw gaped open and golden teeth were set in its jaws.

  Kasimir’s heart fell. "The Dragon's Teeth," he said.

  Of all of the Chesian units that could have attacked his fortress, it had to be the best-trained, best-armed and most feared of them all.

  "Jarak, get one of your battalions to this side," Kasimir ordered as he pulled back his musket's hammer and pressed a percussion cap onto the nipple. "Enemies approaching! Artillery, fire at will!"

  The three cannons positioned on the eastern wall thundered in unison. Fire spewed from the mouth of the artillery and plumes of dirt exploded skyward when the solid shots slammed into the field near the edge of the forest. The rounds were poorly aimed and none of the approaching Chesians were hit. The artillerymen took to their sights to better their targeting.

  The soldiers on the eastern wall pulled their muskets to their shoulders and leaned into the ramparts. Their weapons would only be effective at a hundred yards, but the men felt safer tucked behind the stone ramparts.

  "They're carrying carbines, sir!"

  Thank the Ruler, Kasimir thought as he pressed his looking glass to his eye once more. The shorter barreled firearms served cavalry well for their mobility and lesser weight, but they had less than half the range of the muskets that Kasimir's men carried.

  The Chesian cavalry galloped toward the fortress. The thunder of their hooves echoed across the fields, and Kasimir watched with dread as more continued to pour from the forest. A full regiment had charged onto the field already, with no end in sight. The first riders were already halfway across the open field that Kasimir's troops had maintained for this exact purpose.

  The field was two thousand yards across, from the edge of the forest to the base of the massive stone walls. At their gallop, it would take the cavalry another several minutes to reach the Malkalan musket range and another several minutes before they could effectively answer fire. They would be exposed to artillery fire for the whole time and Kasimir restrained his enthusiasm when the second volley exploded. The explosions consumed a dozen riders and shrapnel felled another dozen.

  "Change the five-pounder to large canister shot!" Kasimir ordered, and the artillerymen dropped a canister down the barrel of their cannon. The canister contained a dozen smaller iron balls, meant to cause maximum damage across a wider area.

  The Chesians continued to charge forward, even as the Malkalan artillery refined their targeting and began firing heavy canister from all three cannons. They began to ride erratically in an attempt to throw off the artillery's aim, but canister shot had a widespread area of effect and all that they succeeded in doing was slowing their approach.

  Kasimir pulled his musket into his shoulder as the attackers crashed through the low wooden fence that had been put up a hundred yards away from the fortress. He flipped up the longer range sight on his weapon and began searching for a target. He was one of the most accurate marksmen in the fortress and wanted to make his first shot count.

  He found his target in a garishly dressed officer with a tall black hat accented with golden tassels. The man's uniform was covered in badges and awards.

  The cavalry was charging directly at the fortress now. Kasimir steadied his breath and focused the sight on his musket at the center of the man's chest. The man's body rose and fell with each long stride of his horse's gait and he made no attempt at making himself a smaller target. Kasimir inhaled and held his breath for a long moment. He squeezed the trigger.

  A flash of light too close to his eyes, the heat on his face from the ignited powder in the pan, the mule's as the rifle bucked into his shoulder and the ringing in his ears from the explosion. Smoke and fire spouted from the end of the barrel.

  The officer slumped in his saddle for a moment before falling to the hard packed soil and being ridden over by the cavalry behind him.

  Kasimir would have allowed himself a moment of satisfaction, but the men around him had taken his lead and were firing as fast as they could reload their guns. Reloading his own, he pulled the musket to his shoulder once more and began again.

  ***

  The Chesians had retreated after nearly an hour of attacks, retreats and feints. They had lost more than a third of their number. The dead strewn across the field had already begun to smell and the cries of the dying could be heard even within the walls of the fortress.

  More than one hundred of Kasimir's soldiers had been killed and another fifty were too wounded to fight, but the enemy's shorter ranged carbines had been their downfall. Kasimir said a quick prayer to the Ruler, thanking his god that the attackers had been true cavalry rather than mounted infantry armed with muskets.

  "Riders!" a sentry shouted, and Kasimir spun around and brought his looking glass up.

  "They're ours," he said when he had confirmed the banners. "Two scouts."

  The riders galloped across miles of open fields and reined up at the foot of the fortress walls. The gates swung open and the men rode through the gatehouse to give their report.

  "General Hollatz is about to round the hook!" one of the riders reported. "They should be at the walls in an hour, maybe less."

  "How many troops?" Kasimir asked.

  "Two full regiments of regular infantry and two platoons of skirmishers," the other rider said.

  "I want the rest of the cavalry deployed to screen the General's march!" Kasimir shouted to his commanders. The rest of the Dragon's Teeth had retreated to the safety of the forest, but they could emerge at any moment.

  ***

  "General!" Kasimir saluted when Niklos Hollatz swung down from his horse.

  The commander of Fort Aldris was an inch short than Kasimir, with brown hair and green eyes. He had served in the Malkalan army for as long as Kasimir had been alive and had commanded troops against marauders from half a dozen Chesian warlords. He was also the most arrogant person that Kasimir had ever met.

  Niklos Hollatz was a decorated and battle-tested officer in the Malkalan army. His victories carried significant weight in the traditionalist structure of the army. One of his very first commands had seen him repel an attack by a C
hesian warlord with a force twice the size of his garrison. He was also a talented logistics officer and many of his plans were religiously followed by the Malkalan army.

  "This fortress is a disgrace," Niklos said as he pulled off his gloves. "Where is your artillery complement? And why don't you have any skirmishers out in the field to slow the enemy advance?"

  "General, sir, my artillery complement is on the walls. Four ten-pounders and a pair of fives. I have no complement of skirmishers, sir," Kasimir reported.

  "Then send some of your damned regulars out there," the general snapped. "Ruler save us, you fresh blood commanders think you know what's going on and you can't find your ass with two hands and a map."

  "Sir, we had not yet recovered from an attack by Chesian cavalry, and I was following standard deployment commands," Kasimir said defensively.

  The Malkalan army issued very detailed deployment plans for nearly every situation, even a situation as dire as the one that Kasimir found himself in. The orders were revised nearly every year by the Malkalan War College and every officer was required to memorize the five most common scenarios; invasion by Chesian forces was considered the number one most likely event.

  Kasimir thought that it said something about the way that his nation's best military minds considered their largest neighbor and trading partner.

  "The first thing you need to learn about those deployment plans is that they were written by professors at some war college, not by generals who