by Chris Bunch
All of them wanted the huge Roche black dragons destroyed, but none of them particularly wanted the honor of taking them on.
Again, the analogy of the cat came to mind…
* * * *
Hal had thought, with almost every flier with the First and Second Armies looking, they'd find where Yasin and his dragons lived in a few days.
But it took two full weeks, and showed, yet again, Yasin's cleverness.
As well as the cleverness, and luck, of the Sagene fliers.
A pair of Yasin's dragons, on patrol, had been tracked by a Sagene flier back of the lines, and then the dragons dove hard toward a narrow draw—and vanished.
No one—yet—had been able to move dragons around by magic, so the tale made no sense.
Against orders, the Sagene flight leader sent two of his fliers to make a sweep over the area, just at dusk, when all sensible dragons were returning to their roosts.
Again, a flight of three blacks carrying Yasin's guidon were seen in the same area, and once more they dove for shelter, impossibly, up a narrow draw.
And were gone.
The two Sagene dragons chanced a lower pass, and at first saw nothing.
Then luck intervened.
One of the Sagene fliers happened to be color blind. He'd managed to join up and make it through flying school without his minor disability being discovered.
Then the disability became a prize, when his flight commander discovered that a color-blind man was almost impossible to fool with camouflage.
So it was here.
The draw was in fact a fairly broad valley. A base had been prepared on the valley floor and then heavy wires had been strung across the valley.
Treetops were hung on the wires, their greenery kept alive by magic, then, once more with sorcery, were being artfully faded through fall coloring.
But the magic either hadn't been renewed often enough or wasn't quite artistic enough, for the color-blind flier looked down, saw something very false, looked harder and saw a long, huge dragon shelter to one side of a leveled, rolled field, and, he was almost certain, tents, huts and sheds on its other side.
That was enough for Hal, when it was reported to him.
The entire area was proclaimed a no-fly zone at army level.
Now it was Kailas's turn.
* * * *
"It wasn't the spell that took so long," Bodrugan said. "It was where it was to be applied."
"I'd suggested that it be attached to Yasin's guidon," Hal said. "If you'll recall."
"I recall quite well," Bodrugan said with a bit of asperity. "But I didn't think it was a particularly good idea. Suppose Yasin decided to change his banner if his brother renamed the squadron? Suppose the bits we'd somehow managed to ensorcel got blown away?
"So I bethought myself of other places to apply the spell. None of them were particularly good—I thought we could spray the dragons themselves, but that sounded most shuddersome in the execution, not to mention risky.
"Then, a week ago, a Roche dragon flight was overrun by a cavalry strike. I got myself forward as quickly as I could.
"Of course the dragons and their fliers were long gone, and those of the ground workers who hadn't been slain had fled as well.
"But most of their apparatus remained, and so I was able to spend two hours wandering about before the cavalry was forced to fall back and abandon their conquest.
"Makes you wonder what good all these fools farting about on their horses do, in the long run.
"But I found a possible place for the spell. The most expensive piece of a dragon's gear is the saddle, correct?"
"Of course," Hal said. "Just like it's that of a horse."
"I propose that we work our way into Ky Yasin's base, find the tack room, and use the spell on the dragons' saddlery. Also, I'll make up enough so that we can cover the bridles and such as well."
"What happens," Hal asked skeptically, "when all the saddles that you've treated get lost in action or just get torn up with wear and tear?"
"That is the second part of my scheme," Bodrugan said. He held out a small can.
"This is the standard issue oil for the Roche leathers, it seems. I've cast the spell on half a dozen tins I found in that dragon base.
"We'll leave them lying about, and every time an earnest worker rubs his flier's tack, well, the spell will be renewed."
"Ingenious," Hal said. "Remembering how long our oil lasts, if the war lasts beyond the supply you've worked on, we'll all be dead."
"That, too, doesn't matter," Bodrugan said. "For Yasin and his men will have gone before, which is all that matters, isn't it?"
Hal ignored that for the moment.
"So the way the spell will work," Bodrugan said, "and work it shall, for I've tested it, is each flier, or each flight commander, or however you decide, will have a small wooden plate. On the plate, mounted so it can spin freely, will be a pointer. That pointer will always indicate two places. The first is Yasin's base. Since that's stationary, the flier can ignore that. The second will be any of Yasin's dragons with gear that's been ensorcelled who're in the air. Isn't that perfect?"
"I guess so," Hal said. Then something came back to him.
"Uh… a question. You said, a bit ago, that 'we' will work our way into Yasin's camp."
"Of course I'm going," Bodrugan said. "You don't think I trust a mere dragon driver to make sure my spell is properly in place, do you?
"Besides, that young raider—the one with a face like a depraved child—is quite striking, don't you think?"
* * * *
"You have a plan afoot," Danikel said. "Perhaps," Hal said cautiously. "Without a Sagene flier to accompany it."
"As a matter of fact," Hal lied, "I'd just realized that, and, needing another dragon, was about to ask for volunteers."
"Which I am," Danikel said. "And it's a good thing I came to you. Would you rather have had Alcmaen?"
* * * *
Hal briefed his fliers and the two raiders.
He'd had two men make up a sand model of the area from a hasty map, which showed not only the hidden valley, but the hilltop Hal proposed landing on, and leaving the dragons, about half a mile from Yasin's base.
They sat digesting their orders for a time.
"I suppose," Farren Mariah said, "that you've come up with some alibi."
"I don't understand," Hal said.
"Let us suppose that we slip into Yasin's camp, and get discovered. If we just take to our heels, toes following promptly along, Yasin might figure our intent. Shouldn't we be there for some other purpose?"
"That's taken care of," Kailas said. "We'll carry firebottles, and if we're surprised, we'll use them to fire that dragon shed. Or try to, anyway."
"You think Yasin'll believe you went along just because you love the bright flicker, flicker of the flames?"
"I won't be carrying any identification," Hal said grimly. "Nor will anyone else. And I have no plans on being captured again."
There was silence for a moment; then Gamo stood.
"If I may say something, Lord Kailas?"
"Go ahead," Hal said.
"I want to make one thing clear," Gamo said. "Once we're on the ground, until we get back to the dragons, I am in charge. You others know flying and magic, but raiding is Hakea's and my specialty. I want that very certain. If not, my partner and I will be forced to return to our unit."
Hal saw his expression, and suddenly there was something quite chillingly lethal about the man's baby face.
"Well, hickety-doo," Mariah said. "A mere warrant dictating to a bunch of ossifers. I love it."
"I'm sorry," Hal said to Gamo. "I should have made that very clear in my orders. You, of course, are in charge on the ground."
Gamo nodded, sat back down, studying the table.
"We'll leave tomorrow," Hal said. "At full dark."
* * * *
The dragons glided in out of the cold night, wings spread, and thudded down onto the hil
ltop.
Hal, Bodrugan and the two raiders slipped off their dragons, and readied their gear.
Storm was looking about, nostrils flared, scenting the enemy dragons not far away. He opened his mouth to shrill a warning perhaps, and Hal tapped him on the snout.
Storm snapped his jaws shut, looked unhappy, or so Hal defined his expression in the dimness, and curled up.
The raiders shouldered their packs, and moved down the hill. All of them wore black, with darkened faces. Bodrugan had cast a nonreflective spell on their daggers and swords.
Hal had chosen the night carefully, when both moons were out.
Both Gamo and Hakea hadn't liked that at all, preferring to wait until the dark of the moons.
"That may be fine for you raiders, with eyes like bats," Hal had said. "But not for us fliers, who need all the help we can get."
"Whyn't you think of stayin' back, sir," Hakea rumbled, "and let us just go in and piddle that magic about?"
Hal had just looked at him, and Hakea shrugged and said no more.
The four went down the hill to its base, and crouched, moved across rolling brushland toward the draw.
Hal, from his cavalry days, thought he knew a bit about sneaking around.
But the raiders put him to shame.
Hakea, that hulking peasant, suddenly became an eel, slipping from shadow to shadow.
Gamo simply became one of the shadows.
Bodrugan must have done some hunting, or perhaps was just a moonlight wanderer, for he, too, moved without stumbling or crashing through brush and into stumps.
They went across the meadow, to the opening of the draw. They crouched, while Gamo watched, for long moments. Finally he nodded in satisfaction, and motioned the others to the far side of the draw. He moved like an ape Hal had seen once in a menagerie, bent over, keeping below the brush, creeping very slowly.
There was a nest of boulders outside the draw, and Gamo led them behind its shelter. He pointed out, and Hal saw, on the other side of the narrow canyon, slight movement.
A sentry.
Then he spotted two of them, and heard the murmur of conversation.
This far behind the lines security could get a little sloppy.
They went into the canyon, staying on the slope, away from the floor, where no patrols would likely travel.
Then they were under the cover of the false trees. The landing field reached out in front of them, and the huge shed was to their left.
Gamo looked at Hal, waiting for orders.
Hal thought.
If Yasin were logical, he most likely would have built the most essential supply sheds closest to the dragons.
He saw three such.
He pointed to them. Gamo nodded, and they crept off.
It was cold, getting colder, and frost was forming.
They'd have to be out of here by dawn, for their passage through the dying brush around the field would leave streaks in the frost.
There were still lights on, here and there, mostly across the field in the squadron's quarters.
No one seemed to be about.
Hal smelled the acrid musk of the dragons in the long bay, heard a long, bubbling monstrous snore from inside.
Gamo stopped outside the first shed.
Hal sniffed, wrinkled his nostrils. Blood and offal. That would be the dragons' butcher shop.
He pointed to the next shed, and then went on.
Hal smelled nothing, but Gamo must've, for Hal saw a grin flash in the moonlight.
The door of the canvas and wood shed wasn't locked, and they slipped inside, closing it behind them.
Gamo reached into Hakea's pack, took out a small bull's-eye lantern and lit it. He opened one panel, and Hal saw hanging saddles, bridles, other leather workings.
Bodrugan had seen as well and needed no orders.
He unslung his pack, and took out four small sprayers, such as women used for perfume.
Each man took one, and sprayed the hanging gear, and the saddles on their stands.
Hal's went empty, and he went to Bodrugan's pack, and took out half a dozen tins of leather oil.
He stacked them on a shelf, and their mission was successful.
All they had to do was slip away without wakening the cat.
Hal was beginning to have hopeful feelings as they left the shed that they'd get away with it clean, and then there was a surprised snort as a skinny man came out of a door in the long dragon shed, saw armed men in the moonlight, guessed they weren't there with good intents, and opened his mouth to shout an alarm.
Gamo snaked out, and his hand rose, fell.
The thin Roche grunted, went down, began making snoring noises.
Gamo motioned to Hakea, who came up, and knelt, his knee on the Roche's throat. The snoring stopped.
Hal had the idea this wasn't the first time they'd dealt with a surpriser in such a manner.
Hakea rose, lifted the body over his shoulder, and they went back out of the valley.
The sentries were quiet now, hopefully sleeping.
None of the Derainians made a sound as they crept out of the draw, and across the rolling ground to their hillock.
Farren Mariah rose from behind a rock, crossbow in hand.
"Any problems?"
"None," Hal said.
"Who's that?" He indicated the body across Hakea's shoulder.
"Someone who was where he shouldn't have been," Hal said.
"What I suggest, sir," Gamo said, and Hal noted the way authority had reverted to where it should be, "is we take the body out with us, and dump it in some lake. They'll think he deserted or, as like, not even notice. I've seen the Roche don't seem to give much of a hang about their help," he said.
They remounted the dragons, and took off along the far side of the hill.
Hal had the body across his knees and noted, with disgust, the man had voided his bowels in dying.
They saw silver in the moonlight, dropped down over a chill-looking pond, and Hal pushed the corpse over.
He felt a moment of pity. If the man had a family, they'd never learn what happened to him and be forever wondering.
Then he remembered the sentry he'd dumped in a river when he was an escaping prisoner, and forgot about the dragon handler.
There were bigger things to consider.
Such as the morrow, and the surprise he hoped to bring Ky Yasin and his fliers.
40
The dragons were trundling out of their sheds in the gray chill, when one of the field sentries announced a courier to Hal. He bore a rather sizable package, coming from Limingo the wizard.
Hal puzzled, then remembered he'd promised to look over the poor mad raider's ramblings that'd been transcribed.
But not right now.
Storm squealed at him, and, obediently, Hal clambered up into the saddle.
He popped his reins on the dragon's back, and Storm staggered forward, great wings spreading. He hopped, then leaped, and was in the air.
Behind Hal, the rest of his squadron lifted up, and began circling the field, reaching for altitude.
As Storm climbed, Kailas looked down at the tiny needle and board secured to Storm's carapace.
It pointed steadily in one direction, the direction of Yasin's base.
Kailas tapped the rear of the needle with a fingernail, but it stayed in one place. That meant Yasin's dragons hadn't taken off yet.
Hal blasted on his trumpet, and, still climbing, the squadron followed him east and slightly south.
Hal's course would, hopefully, intersect Yasin's flight on its way to patrolling the fighting ground.
He took the dragons as high as he could, until he was struggling to fill his lungs.
Storm's wings moved slowly, sluggishly, at this height.
Hal saw one dragon fall off on a wing, and pinwheel downward to thicker, safer air. But only one.
He forced on east. His course, if he'd set it correctly, should intersect with Yasin's, no more than a
league beyond his field.
Now there was nothing to do but wait, and listen to the leathern creak of Storm's wings, and the faint sound of the other monsters behind him.
It was cold up here, even colder than the late fall weather below on the ground.
For some reason, Hal's mind turned to Aimard Quesney, who he hoped was now safely tucked away out of harm's way in Deraine.
He wondered what Quesney would think of this latest devise, almost certainly knew the flier would rage about Hal finding yet another way to bloody the skies.
The sky had lightened as they climbed, although the ground below was still nighthung.
They'd crossed the lines without Hal realizing it.
His target lay on east.
Now there was the peep of the sun, glaring at him.
Yasin's advantage.
Hal squinted, looked ahead and down.
He thought at first it was his eyes, then picked out small black dots ahead and below.
Dragons.
Storm had seen them as well, and snorted.
No Roche saw them, which Kailas had counted on. It would have been insane for any Derainian or Sagene formation to be east of the front this early in the day.
Hal chanced a blat of warning, looked back, and saw answering waves from his flight leaders.
He forced calm, counted, watching the blots get larger and larger below.
Then he could wait no longer. He didn't need his trumpet. The lift of an arm was enough to take the squadron diving down, in four V flights, on Yasin's black dragons.
Hal found it momentarily amusing that he, and everyone else, still thought of Yasin as being a black dragon unit, strange because there were now almost as many blacks with Kailas's squadron.
But the menacing label remained.
Hal swore at his mind for fripperies, coming up with nonsense to avoid thinking about the death they were plummeting toward.
Hal steered Storm toward the dragon at the head of the formation, hoping it was Yasin. He had a moment to realize it wasn't, its guidon unfringed.
Storm had that dragon by the throat, tore it down, bones snapping loudly.
Hal snap-fired at that flier's wingman, hit him in the chest, then was below the formation as the rest of his squadron tore into them.