The Doom Brigade

by Don Perrin

  Selquist studied the map carefully, then suddenly let out a cry. “I know where this is!”

  “You do?” Auger rubbed his bleary eyes.

  “Yes! Look, here’s Southgate down here and Northgate up here. The chamber where the map starts is to the left. It can’t be far from the air shaft I found.” Selquist picked up the Dark Queen’s medallion, gave it a reverent kiss. “Your Majesty, blessed Majesty! You’ve done something for me at last!”

  Carefully, Selquist packed up the map and placed it inside the bone map case. He stowed the case back in the chest and locked the three locks. He put the medallion in his pocket. Then he sat back on his heels and heaved a sigh of blissful contentment.

  “We’re going to get rich from this one, aren’t we, Selquist?” Auger asked.

  “Yes,” Selquist agreed, his voice choked with emotion. “Very rich indeed.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  The draconians, bivouacked in the hills, spent the next two days watching the army of Lord Ariakan cross the Plains of Dust and establish a camp in the mountains.

  The draconians were excited at the prospect of once more going to battle, and, though Kang did his best to rein in their enthusiasm, he had to admit that he shared their feelings. To serve under a commander who would respect them for their unique abilities, to have the chance to do what they were trained to do, which was to build, design, and man everything from bridges to trebuchets, assault towers to siege engines. The chance to be useful, as opposed to stagnating in their village, pickling their brains in dwarf spirits.

  The moment the flags of the command tent were raised, Kang left his outlook position in the hills. Taking two Baaz with him to serve as honor guard, he marched down to meet with the commander of the Army of Takhisis.

  In the old days, the campsite would have been a scene of confusion, with the commanders of individual regiments arguing over who had the best position and trying to cheat each other out of supplies. Brawling, drunkenness, camp followers getting in the way, their children under foot—the bad memories flooded back. If he saw any of that, Kang resolved to himself, he was turning around, taking his men, and marching back home.

  He was pleasantly surprised. Not only surprised, but impressed. Damned impressed.

  The soldiers moved about the camp site in orderly fashion, performing their allotted tasks with quiet efficiency. Orders were obeyed without question, without the need for whip-cracking, bullying superiors.

  Kang stopped a knight clad in a black surcoat, adorned by the symbol of the flower known on Ansalon as the death-lily.

  “Pardon, Sir Knight,” Kang said, “but could you direct me to the location of the command tent?”

  The draconian knew well enough were the tent stood. He’d spent the morning watching them erect it. Still, he wanted to see the knight’s reaction.

  The knight’s gaze swept over the draconian, taking in Kang’s armor—which he had polished until it outshone the sun—his harness with its indicators of rank, and the golden mallet that indicated his status as an engineer.

  Kang tensed, expecting the sneer of derision or—worse—the patronizing smirk usually worn by humans when they spoke to draconians.

  The knight, however, saluted and said, with marked respect, “Sir, the command tent is in that direction, about twenty-five paces. You can see the flag from here, sir. If the commander wishes, I will accompany him.”

  “Thank you, Sir Knight,” Kang said, returning the salute. “I see the flag. I will not take you from your duties.”

  The knight saluted once more, and walked off.

  Kang felt a warm glow suffuse his body. He’d once heard a poet speak of this feeling as love.

  The command tent had been set up on a large flat rock shelf. Kang approved the site. During the hottest part of the day, the tent would be shielded from the sun by the shadow of the mountains. The tent was large, made of black and red panels sewn together. Two flags flew above it, the first one black, decorated with the black lily of violent death, its severed stem entwined around a bloody axe. Beneath that flew the flag denoting a lord commander, further adorned with a white skull. Standing outside the tent were two huge carved statues, resembling humans, but too tall for humans and grotesquely painted a garish color of blue.

  Kang was wondering why these statues were present, assumed that they must be some form of new icon dedicated to Her Dark Majesty when, to his paralyzing astonishment, one of the statues moved. Eyes, swathed in a mask of blue, greasy paint, focused on Kang. A hand as big as Kang’s hand—counting the claws—tightened around the hilt of a sword so enormous that most humans probably could not even lift it.

  Kang came to a halt. The two Baaz behind him nearly bumped into him. He stared at the human, who stared back at him, and it was obvious that this was the first time either race had encountered the other. The human’s blue-painted lips curled in a snarl. He let out a grunt, and drew a good six inches of steel from the outlandishly decorated scabbard.

  A knight inside the tent came out to see what was going on. Spotting Kang, the knight said something to the human in a strange and uncouth language. The human grunted again and sheathed the sword blade. The eyes, however, did not leave Kang.

  The draconian’s eyes did not leave the human.

  “Wait for me here,” Kang ordered the Baaz. “And get your tongues back in your mouths,” he added irritably.

  The knight walked over to Kang and saluted. “This way, Commander. We’ve been expecting you.”

  He led the way into the tent. The senior officer sat at a small field desk with a leather writing surface. He wore the same black surcoat, this one decorated with a skull. Inside the tent was cooler than outside, but not by much. The heat was oppressive. The canvas flaps hung straight, no breeze stirred. The officer but did not appear to suffer in the heat, however. He was flanked by two more of the savage-looking humans. These guards wore two swords each and were clad from head to toe in heavy chain mail that must have weighed more than they did. They were not even sweating.

  The general finished whatever it was he was writing, then rose to his feet.

  “I present Robert Sykes, Lord of the Skull,” announced the knight who served as the general’s aide.

  Sykes regarded Kang with frank curiosity. “Greetings, Commander—”

  “Kang, sir,” Kang said. “Of the First Dragonarmy Engineers.”

  “Indeed.” The lord knight smiled slightly. “Not much remains of the First Dragonarmy anymore, Commander.”

  “We do, sir,” Kang said proudly.

  “So I am told.” Sykes was in his middle years with dark hair and, in startling contrast, white, bristling eyebrows. His beard was short and neatly trimmed, streaked with gray and white strands. His gaze was cool, appraising, and saw more of others than he permitted to be seen of himself.

  Turning to his aide, he said, “Have the First Wing assemble, ready for inspection.”

  The knight saluted and left. Sykes turned back to Kang.

  “You have two hundred draconians under your command, Commander Kang,” Sykes said. “Is that right?”

  “Yes, sir. And I have to say, my lord, that I am very impressed by what I’ve seen here today. The armies of the Queen have improved a great deal since the War of the Lance, apparently.”

  Sykes smiled. “I was a company commander in the Second Dragonarmy during the War of the Lance. I have to agree with you, Commander Kang. The soldiers under such leaders as Dragon Highlord Verminaard were very much like their superiors—little more than thieves and butchers. I have always been inclined to include draconians among that number. I’m therefore afraid, Commander, that I have no need of your services.”

  Kang crossed his arms across his chest, and extended his wings. He was large for a Bozak, making him equal in height to the tallest of the blue-painted savage bodyguards.

  “Some draconians, maybe, sir, but not those under my command. We would not have survived this long if we had been, my lord. I have two hundred
draconians, all well-trained. We are engineers. We think on our feet, we keep armies on the move, and deny the same to our enemy.”

  The lord knight’s smile broadened at Kang’s boasting, but the draconian had the feeling that Sykes was impressed. He took care not to show it, however. He raised one of the white eyebrows.

  “You must have been in Neraka, Commander Kang. To have survived that battle and to have escaped alive … Well, it could be said that you were deserters.”

  Kang did not flinch or lower his gaze. “Sir, it could be said that any of the Dark Queen’s army who survived the War of the Lance were deserters.”

  Sykes stiffened at this. His face paled with anger and for a moment Kang thought he’d gone too far. Then, the lord knight relaxed, shook his head ruefully.

  “You’re right, Commander. More than one of us laid down our arms in disgust and walked away from the fight, rather than face the humility of surrendering to the elven whore who called herself the Golden General. Why give our lives for a cause that even our own commanders refused to support? But all that’s changed now,” Sykes said, speaking softly, more to himself than to Kang. “All that’s changed.”

  He was silent a moment, gazing out his tent in a reverie Kang was careful not to interrupt. The two were still standing in silence when the aide returned.

  “First Wing assembled, my lord.”

  “Thank you, Talon Leader.” Sykes turned to Kang. “Come with me, Commander. Let me show you the new army of Lord Ariakan.”

  The two exited the tent, closely followed by the two blue-painted bodyguards. Lined up in front was an entire squadron of mounted cavalry, lances held in the upright position. They wore black armor, their horses were all black. The knights came to attention when the lord knight appeared.

  “As a young man, Lord Ariakan was a prisoner of the Solamnic knights for many years after the war,” Sykes explained to Kang. “They treated him well, for they admired his courage and his skill. He, in turn, came to admire them.”

  Kang blinked. This was new, indeed!

  “He learned from them, as well,” Sykes continued. “Learned much that he put to good use when he was finally able to escape. The Oath and the Measure, that we once used to sneer at, kept the Solamnic Knights a cohesive unit, even through those years preceding the war when they were reviled by the populace. Lord Ariakan instituted the Code for our forces. The Code and the Vision guide our conduct on and off the battlefield. With this Code and the Vision, we will bring peace and order to this chaotic world.”

  None of the knights moved a muscle in the saddle. They kept their horses under strict control, as well. Knight and horse might have been carved of obsidian.

  “Tell me the Code, my lord,” Kang said.

  “The Code is different for each of the three orders of knighthood. The Code for the Knights of the Lily is ‘Independence breeds chaos. Submit and be strong.’ The Code for the Knights of the Skull is, ‘Death is patient. It flows both from without and from within. Be vigilant in all and skeptical of all.’ And for the Knights of the Thorn, who are wielders of magic, the Code reads, ‘One who follows the heart finds it will bleed. Feel nothing but victory.’ ”

  “And the Vision, my lord?” Kang asked. He approved highly of all three.

  “The Vision comes to each of us from our Queen,” Sykes said. “It is given to each, suited to each. From this, we know our direction. From this, we find our inspiration.”

  Kang drew his sword from its scabbard, drew it slowly and deliberately. The two bodyguards had their hands on their hilts, were watching him warily. Reversing the sword, Kang held it out to Sykes, hilt first.

  “My lord, it has been many years since my troops have served our Queen. Still, fighting is what we were bred for, what we are best at. Our engineering skills may prove of value to your army. I offer you the First Regiment of Draconian Engineers, to serve as engineers for your army. I believe it to be the Queen’s will.”

  The lord knight accepted the sword. “I accept your offer, Commander Kang. There is a great deal that you draconians can do for me. When can you be ready to move?”

  “In four days I can meet you at the first mountain pass into Thorbardin. I assume that’s where you’re headed? To take the dwarven stronghold?”

  The Lord Knight gave away nothing. “Let’s say only that you and your regiment should meet us at the first pass leading into Thorbardin.”

  Kang saluted. “I understand, my lord. We will be there.”

  “I look forward to it,” said the lord knight. He handed Kang’s sword to his aide, who returned it, with ceremony, to Kang. The lord knight strode forward to inspect his command.

  Kang was dismissed.

  He left with the sights and sounds of armored knights wheeling in perfect formation. The familiar sights and sounds of an army.

  He felt blessed as one who has come home after a long, long absence.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The march back to Mount Dashinak was a long one for the draconians. A long march and silent, except for the slap and scrabble of their clawed feet, the gentle fanning of their wings, to dissipate the intense heat. Kang had never experienced a hotter, dryer summer. He couldn’t remember the last time it had rained. Even the dwarves, better farmers than the draconians, were watching their crops wither and die. The winter could be desperate for both races living in the valley.

  “But then,” Kang said to himself, “we won’t be living in the valley any longer. Perhaps we’ll be stationed in a nice cushy city like Palanthas. Or maybe even the High Clerist’s Tower. Lots to eat and drink then.”

  His pleasant daydreams carried him along at a good clip for at least five miles before nagging doubt caused his feet to slow their marching pace.

  “I’m giving up twenty-five years of toil, of hard work. In a way, I’m giving up twenty-five years of battle—the battle we fought to survive. And now, maybe I’m ordering everyone off to march to his death. But,” he argued with himself, “like I told the commander, war is what we were bred for. We are soldiers. We were born soldiers. Glory will be ours in battle. This army of knights cannot lose. This time, we will be on the winning side!

  “And some of us will die,” he admitted. “Maybe all of us, and our race will be gone. But then,” he added, remembering Slith’s words, “we won’t be around to notice. So it won’t matter anyway.”

  Still, he couldn’t help feeling sad and depressed at the thought. His pace lagged.

  One of the subcommanders came up behind, brushed Kang’s wing tip, to draw his attention.

  Kang looked up to discover that most of the troop had come to a straggling halt, were staring at him in concern. He had not yet told them of his decision, and he’d ordered the two Baaz to keep their mouths shut. He had no intention of letting anyone know anything until he’d absolutely made up his mind.

  “Excuse me, sir,” said the subcommander, “but if you’re tired, we can rest up ahead. There’s a place—”

  “Tired!” Kang roared, rounding on the unfortunate draco with a snap of his jaws. “What do you mean tired? We’ve got a war to fight! Double-time, and smartly now!”

  The subcommander hastily retreated back among his comrades. Kang broke into a run. He’d show them who was tired! He began to sing a rousing marching song, and after that he started a draconian war chant. It was at that moment that he realized his mind was made up.

  Kang made certain that the draconians ran all the way home. And he himself led them.

  The entire regiment was lined up on the walls, waiting for Kang’s return. All were turned out in full battle gear. Kang marched his troop into the walled village, brought them to a halt in the center square.

  “Bugler, call Assembly!” he ordered.

  The notes rang out, echoed back from the mountains.

  Having anticipated the command, most of the regiment’s members were already in the square, forming up in troops under squadrons. Within moments, the troops were ready for inspection. Kang had neve
r seen them move so fast. He grinned. They were as excited as he was.

  And there was Slith, standing at attention.

  What with the party, the reports of the dragons, and discovering the army of Lord Ariakan, Kang had completely forgotten that his second-in-command had gone off on an expedition of his own.

  “Regiment! Attention!” the regiment’s second yelled.

  Feet pounded on the packed dirt. Kang marched up to Slith, and accepted the salute. In a low tone, he said, “Glad to see you back! After this, I want you to tell me where the hell you’ve been!”

  “Very good, sir,” was all Slith said. But he winked.

  Kang ordered the regiment to stand at ease. No sense in taxing their strength in this heat. Fortunately evening’s shadows were beginning to fall, though they seemed to do little to lower the temperature. At least it was cooler here in the mountains that it had been on the Plains of Dust.

  “Draconians of the First Regiment of Engineers! Battle calls us. We are going back to being soldiers! Lord Knight Sykes of the Fifth Army of Conquest has requested that we join him in the conquest of Ansalon!”

  There was stunned silence. The draconians who had accompanied Kang had all seen the army, but they had no idea they’d been invited to join. Those left behind had been expecting to be attacked by dragons. Now all had just learned that they were being called to once more wage war on the peoples of Ansalon.

  Slith started a cheer. The others picked it up, and soon their voices combined in a shout that boomed through the mountains like thunder. The dwarves must have heard it clear across the valley.

  “We have made a good life here on the slopes of Mount Dashinak, but it is not a soldier’s life,” Kang continued, when the cheering finally ceased. “We were born for one purpose, and one purpose only—to follow the will of the Dark Queen and aid her in the conquest of this world. This we are called upon to do. We must heed the call.”

  No cheer went up this time. This was a solemn moment, almost reverent.