Knighthood of the Dragon

by Chris Bunch

  Bands and street performers entertained the throng as they waited.

  A keen-eyed little girl saw it first—a dot, high in the sky, spiraling down toward the square.

  She squealed, and everyone looked up.

  Hal Kailas brought his dragon, Storm, down in a glide. Its claws skittered on the cobblestones, and it was down. Before Hal had returned from the raid, it had been arranged by Khiri to bring Storm from her castle to Rozen.

  He was most unhappy until he saw Hal, then tried to larrup him with his great tongue.

  Storm's breath hadn't improved in his convalescence, but Hal was quite used to the various odors dragons emitted by now, and hoped that Storm felt the same about human smells.

  Kailas slid down from Storm, and a man ran out and took the dragon's reins.

  Hal wore a white tunic, with his decorations on a dark blue sash. Blue breeches, bloused in black thigh boots, complemented the sash, as did his gloves. He wore the red forage cap of the dragon fliers.

  Kailas was armed, not with a ceremonial sword, but with the long, single-edged, most functional dragon flier's knife at his waist.

  He was cheered by the crowds as he waited, standing not quite at ease, not quite at attention.

  There was more cheering, coming toward the square like a wave, and a carriage, drawn by eight matching white horses, appeared.

  Hal had been warned by Sir Thom to expect surprises, but not this.

  The carriage was the royal carriage, an old-fashioned box on iron springing, all red and gold leaf.

  It drew up in front of the temple, and King Asir got out.

  The crowd gasped, and went on its knees, as did Hal.

  Asir was a rather remote king, especially since the war had started, and so most of the throng had never seen him.

  He looked around in approval, and motioned the crowd back to its feet.

  They slowly got up as he handed Lady Khiri Carstares out of the carriage.

  She was utterly gorgeous.

  Her close-fitting wedding gown was pewter satin, with a lace bodice. Tiny gems, given a spell, flashed in many colors on the bodice and in her long, dark hair. She wore a short lace jacket over the gown.

  Hal thought he'd never loved her more.

  She grinned at him, and the king took her arm, and led her up the steps. The train of her gown had evidently been ensorcelled, for it waved as she walked, a bit like a dragon tail.

  Hal thought this was a bit much, but didn't say anything.

  The square was a boil of cheering as he followed Khiri and the king up the broad flight of stairs into the temple.

  Music swelled out of the huge doors.

  The crowd tried to push forward, but was held back.

  The temple was quite packed. Every nobleman and -woman not off fighting had been wrangling for an invitation for weeks to this, certainly the social event of the year.

  Khiri and the king, flanked by a gaggle of bridesmaids, were moving slowly up the aisle toward the altar.

  Hal was met by Lord Bab and Sir Thom.

  "Since your lady is an orphan, the king thought it might be appropriate for him to present the bride," Sir Thom whispered.

  Hal bobbed his head.

  It wasn't as if anyone would gainsay the monarch.

  Lord Bab nudged Hal with his elbow, and the three of them started up the aisle, as the music soared around them.

  In the third aisle from the front were Hal's parents, Faadi and Lees.

  Hal hadn't planned on inviting them, and Khiri had torn into him like a drill field sergeant, asking if he didn't love them… Well, yes, of course he did, but he really hadn't gone to see them in the hated tiny northern village of Caerly, even after the army had given him enough rank so he had the freedom to consider it. And why not? Hal wasn't sure. He'd always sent them money, and, after the king had ennobled him, and given him estates, he'd written them, asking if they would accept a house on his property. He'd wondered why he felt a bit relieved when they wrote back, saying they'd prefer to stay in Caerly minding the tavern they'd always had. Hal had immediately bought the building the tavern was in, and deeded it to them.

  Why he felt a bit uncomfortable thinking about them, he could not figure. Perhaps, the thought came once, he felt he'd failed them somehow in getting involved in the brawl that had forced him to run away. Or… or perhaps something else.

  He didn't know.

  But he did feel that he'd done right in obeying Khiri, and sending them the invitation to the wedding, as well as dispatching a carriage and outriders to bring them to Rozen.

  He shut off that line of thought, concentrating on Khiri, waiting for him.

  The king nodded to Hal, then, quite against protocol, left Khiri and went up to the altar. The high priest behind it raised an eyebrow, but it was, again, certainly the king's right to do this.

  "Please stand," the king said, and all obeyed.

  "I wish to invoke the blessings of the gods on the man and woman about to be joined in matrimony, and that their union be long and fruitful.

  "But beyond this, I request the blessings of the gods on our war efforts. Some think that it is not right to call to the gods when the cause is bloody.

  "But I deny this, for our cause is for freedom, and against tyranny.

  "Our people, and the men and women of Sagene, have bled too long in this nightmare, and I require the gods to see the justice of our fight, and to give us their aid.

  "I ask this in the name of the people of Deraine."

  Hal noticed that the king, unlike the others in the temple, didn't bow his head when he prayed, but stared up, as if demanding what was rightfully his from equals.

  He wondered, wryly, not only if there were any gods, which wasn't the first time he'd had the thought, but if the priests of Roche made similar prayers, and if Queen Norcia also laid her demands on the heavens.

  He decided that if he were a god, he'd have done with humanity, at least until the slaughter ended.

  Then he wondered why his mind was coming up with such cynicisms on a day like this.

  The king stood aside, and the priest began the ceremony.

  Hal's mind went blank, and he lost track of the words.

  Khiri kicked him in the shins, and he realized he'd been asked the question.

  "Yes," he said, as memorized, "I, Hal Kailas, Lord Kailas of Kalabas, welcome pairing in holy wedlock with this woman, Lady Khiri Carstares."

  The question was asked of Khiri, who suppressed a giggle, and agreed.

  Hal wondered why women always seemed to be able to handle things like this better then men.

  Then, hearing snuffling, he wondered why women also seemed impelled to cry at weddings.

  He withdrew the thought, realizing it was Sir Thom Lowess leaking the tears.

  "You are as one," the priest said, and Hal kissed Khiri.

  She was very chaste, and kept her lips closed.

  They bowed to the priest, to the king, then turned and bowed to the congregation.

  Hal's mother was crying… as was his father.

  Local lad makes good, he thought, keeping a pleasant smile on his face as Khiri had told him to.

  He realized, very suddenly, why he was bearing such cynical thoughts. He was scared silly at the idea of getting married and, more immediately, at being in the middle of all this ceremony which he felt so very insecure in.

  He would never make a courtier.

  But the pair made it back down the aisle, and then outside, where a real surprise waited.

  Since this was sort of a military ceremony, he'd half expected something like crossed sabers to walk under, or something.

  Something turned out to be six dragons drawn up, three on either side of the temple steps. Hal had no idea how the hells they'd been maneuvered into position without him hearing it from inside.

  But there they were, heads snaking back and forth, fangs occasionally bared. They clearly didn't like being in the middle of this city, and surrounded by people.<
br />
  Then Hal recognized the riders:

  Farren Mariah, Myna Gart, and Sir Loren Damian sat the closest three. Behind them were Cabet, Richia, Pisidia, his flight commanders.

  Hal had a moment's wonder at who was running the squadron, realized that was belittling.

  Khiri was goggling at the huge beasts as they walked under the moving necks.

  It was that moment that caught Hal, and made him start crying. He fought the tears back, tried to look properly martial.

  On the other side of the dragon row waited the royal carriage, and, nearby, Storm.

  Hal and Khiri got in the carriage.

  Storm blatted disappointment. Evidently he thought he should be the honeymoon transport.

  The carriage horses, restive at being around dragons, were held in control by footmen, then led away until the driver could take firm control.

  As the carriage moved out of the square, there was a commotion behind him.

  Hal craned to see what it was, but Khiri jabbed him in the ribs.

  "Try to look noble, milord," she said.

  Hal obeyed, putting that pleasant smile back on, and moving his hand back and forth, as they moved down the packed streets toward the royal palace, where the wedding celebration would be.

  He thought it was snowing harder, realized there were flower petals falling from the sky, coming from nowhere.

  That would be Limingo's wedding present.

  The crowd's roar washed over them.

  Hal leaned over for a kiss, got a return peck.

  "That's the best you can manage?" he said.

  "Behave yourself," Khiri said.

  Hal's grin changed to an evil one.

  "I am thinking of you, lying on a bed," he whispered. "You're naked, and your hands are tied with a silk scarf to the bedstead, and your legs are apart—"

  "Stop that," Khiri hissed.

  Hal didn't.

  By the time they reached the gates of the palace, there was a fine bead of sweat on Khiri's brow.

  "And you said you had no talent as a taleteller," she whispered.

  "At the clean stuff, none," Hal agreed, then leaned close and put his tongue in her ear.

  "I said behave yourself," Khiri said. "And if you go and get yourself drunk like my father did at his wedding, after making all these cheap promises, I swear you'll be a capon before dawn."

  "I promise to be good," Hal said.

  * * * *

  The king made the opening toast, to the couple.

  Hal, making the royal toast in return, barely sipped the wine.

  Others were not so decorous.

  The members of Hal's squadron in attendance had evidently sworn an oath that Kailas was not to be permitted to walk to the marriage bed, but would have to be carried.

  But Hal evaded their efforts.

  He'd slipped a gold coin to one servitor, and told him to pour him nothing but charged water, no matter what he or others asked for.

  Before things got too drunk, he made a point of introducing his parents to the king, who chatted with Faadi and Lees until they lost a bit of their awe.

  "I'll never forget this," Lees said to Hal.

  "I hope not," Hal said. "I only plan on doing this once."

  "Good," Faadi said. "I made the same promise."

  Lees glowed, and hugged her husband.

  Then they were swept away in the throng.

  Farren Mariah was there, holding out a glass.

  Hal took it, pretended to sip it, put it behind him on a table.

  "What," he asked, to disguise his duplicity, "was all the excitement about when we were leaving the Square?"

  "Aarh, it was your dragon," Farren said.

  "Is he all right?"

  "He's fine," Farren said. "He saw some old fat sort with too many jewels on her dress, and didn't like her on sight, I guess. She had some little white dog in her arms who kept yapping at Storm."

  "What happened?" Hal asked.

  "Nothing to worry about," Farren said. "The woman's healthy. Storm just ate her dog, was all."

  Hal let himself be dragged away by Lord Bab, who wanted to drink his health.

  Kailas circulated around the huge room, only sipping at his glass.

  After an hour or so, he found Khiri, and jerked his head toward the stairs.

  She looked momentarily disappointed, then started making her apologies.

  * * * *

  "Were you a good boy?" Khiri said, then hiccuped.

  They were in the apartment the king had given them for the night.

  "I was… and am," Hal said.

  "I wasn't," she said, looking not a bit ashamed. "I thought you might be interested in a bad girl tonight.

  "Not that it matters," she went on. "All I have to do is lie here… if you'll give me a hand with this dress.

  "And you'll find a scarf in the top drawer of my trunk… the biggest one.

  "This bedpost looks strong enough.

  "Just take off that damned uniform first. I've got enough creases from dancing with enough generals with their damned medals."

  * * * *

  The first half of their honeymoon was spent touring Hal's estates, the first chance he had to travel their vastness. The people in the villages greeted him with a bit of caution to their exuberance.

  But Hal made no mistakes, no missteps.

  By the time the pair left for Khiri's own holdings, the people had decided Hal was worthy of their fealty.

  They were especially taken that the Dragonmaster had brought Storm.

  Hal had asked Farren Mariah about Sweetie, the dragon who'd dumped him into captivity, had been told the dragon never came back to the base. Hal knew better than to think dragons could have guilty consciences, hoped mildly that Sweetie had gone back to the little girl who'd supposedly raised her.

  He rode Storm daily, and even enticed Khiri aloft once or twice, when the winter winds died, and it was calm.

  She swore she enjoyed it, but Kailas wasn't sure she wasn't just being in love.

  In the west, on Khiri's lands, Hal had already made his name, and the time there was unrestrained joy.

  One thing that happened, Kailas would always remember.

  Dressed warmly, they were on the winter beach below Cayre a Carstares, Khiri's great castle on a promontory.

  Chunks of ice were being washed ashore by the tide, and it was a bleak day, the sort of day Hal loved.

  Hal saw, not more than half a league to sea, four tented shapes—dragons, their wings over their heads.

  They were being carried north-northeast by the currents.

  "One of these days," Hal said, "I'd like to travel west, and see what the dragons are fleeing."

  Khiri shivered.

  "I suppose I'll have to go with you," she said. "And keep you from the clutches of the princesses of those lands."

  Hal watched them, until they were out of sight, dimly aware that he'd made a promise to someone… himself, perhaps?

  * * * *

  Their time together ended, and now Hal had to make his squadron into the mailed fist he'd dreamed of.

  18

  Khiri had wanted to come back to Rozen with Hal, but he'd asked her forgiveness, and said that he would be too busy to give her any attention, let alone the amount she deserved.

  She sniffed, complimented him on getting a bit more politic, stayed at the castle.

  Hal returned to Sir Thom's, and was immediately just as busy as he thought he'd be.

  He'd requested Farren Mariah and Mynta Gart to stay on when the other dragon fliers returned to the squadron, which the king had ordered withdrawn from the lines until Hal returned to duty.

  His dream of a fully-manned unit, made up of the best fliers, had been approved by the king more than two years earlier. But shortages in both men and dragons, plus the devouring offensive east of Paestum, had prevented him bringing the dream alive.

  Now Hal had enough of equivocating, and used every bit of clout he had with the king t
o obtain one weapon.

  It was a parchment scroll, in Asir's own hand, ordering that the bearer, Lord Kailas, be given anything he requested, or face royal displeasure or worse.

  That was a start.

  Hal, sadly familiar with the ways of the army, knew there would still be many who'd find a way around the order, never quite refusing cooperation, but never giving it, either.

  The second weapon was a tale for the broadsheets, carefully crafted by Sir Thom.

  It announced that Lord Kailas of Kalabas, the Dragonmaster, was building a super squadron, intended to take on anything the Roche could put in the air, and that this would be the spearhead for the inevitable spring offensive.

  Volunteers were being accepted immediately.

  The trick, Hal told Sir Thom, was that he wanted to attract the best, but without slighting other fliers who weren't good enough, or, Hal said grimly, "without enough of the killer in them."

  Also, other flights couldn't be made to feel inferior. Morale was low enough as the endless war dragged on.

  Hal's plan was simple—he would fly south, calling on every Deraine dragon flight. He knew commanders would try to shuffle their worst and slackest fliers on him, in the manner of every army formation in history. But he knew enough names, and fancied himself a good enough judge of fliers, if not necessarily men and women, to bring only the best back with him.

  One thing he had to take care of in Rozen was tracking down Goang, the prisoner who'd built a glider and tried to escape Castle Mulde.

  He found him after some effort—he was a civilian, Lord Callo Goang. He'd been studying the chants of certain Roche hill tribes when the war caught him up. The Goangs were a famous family in Deraine, so naturally he became a hostage in Castle Mulde, where he made four unsuccessful escapes.

  He was the darling of his family, who tried their best to keep him safe from the batterings of the world.

  "I don't understand, Lord Kailas, just why you want me to join your squadron, although of course I'm more than flattered."

  "You don't think like the rest of us," Hal said.

  "Beg pardon?"

  "A castle full of fliers, yet you're the only one who studied birds and tried to fly out."

  "It seemed quite obvious to me."

  "Exactly."

  "I certainly had no interest in the war, but I must say I have developed a certain dislike, even before the fighting started, for the bullying ways of the Roche. I do not think the world would miss the absence of their form of government at all.