The two of them walked down the first of many roads.
*****
"-the first of many roads."
The fire was reduced to embers, the lamps out. The inn was shadowy and seemed suddenly as cold as the night.
Kory finished, "And so the two took on human form and fled from town to town, from inn to inn, seeking to hide among humans and pursued nightly by the healed dragon Jaegendar. And everywhere they went, they were followed shortly by flames and destruction. To this day, wherever they go, few survive."
No one said anything for a long while. Finally, Brann asked in a quavering voice, "And did he ever catch them?"
Gannie, all smiles gone finally, looked out the window for the twentieth time. "Not yet."
"But he's destroyed every place they've been."
"Completely." Kory watched Gannie's expression anxiously. "Not one stone on another. Refugees, blood, and tears.
"So there are two dragons fleeing another, forever?" the herdsman asked plaintively.
Kory spread his hands. In the firelight, the shadows of his outspread arms flickered like wings, hanging over the table. No one moved until he dropped his arms. "I'm afraid it's the end."
Kory coughed discreetly. "If you all remember," he said earnestly, "our bargain was that if our story frightened you, you would pay us." He stared at each of them one by one; several of them flinched. "I think we've earned our reward."
The people paid nervously, digging coins out of pockets, pouches and purses. They dropped them into Kory and Gannie's hands as though making a peace offering or a bribe.
The shepherd pulled out five or six corroded coins, pressing them into Kory's palm. "All I have," he said miserably.
Kory patted his shoulder reassuringly, but took every coin.
Annella took the still-sleeping Elinor back from Peilanne and cradled her protectively on her way out of the inn. Kory tried to pat Elinor's head, but the mother snatched her away.
One and all, even the long-distance travelers, slipped into coats and fled into the night. Kory and Gannie were left alone with the innkeeper, the barmaid, two hats full of money, and an inn of completely empty beds.
Peilanne, clearing tables, scowled at them. "Was that nice?"
Kory said innocently, "By any chance, do you have room for us to stay?"
"I have all the room I need," Darien said coldly. "Thanks to you."
Peilanne slammed the cups down. There wasn't a coin on the tray; all tip money had gone to the storytellers. "All that looking out the window was a nice touch."
Gannie looked back, all injured innocence. He poked at the fire. "Your embers are dying."
"It will be fine." Darien glared around at the empty inn. "After all, this is the Inn of the Waiting Fire."
"And you still haven't paid us," Kory said flatly.
"And what should I pay you, for having ruined my business?"
Gannie boldly tapped Darien's finger. "That ring looks nice."
Darien looked down at it with amusement. "No, it doesn't. It's worth more than it looks, at least to me. Here." Gannie watched in disbelief as Darien took two gold coins from the till and tossed one to each of them. "Least I could do."
"And now," he added heavily, "If you really can change into dragons, I recommend that you do so."
Now his shadow was large on the wall. Kory and Gannie shifted uncomfortably. "It's like we tried to explain," Kory said finally, plaintively, "it's just a story."
"Not even that good a story," Darien said conversationally. "It needed a better ending. Would you like to hear one?"
Neither of them said anything. From behind the bar Peilanne, polishing cups, watched closely.
"Once, not long ago, there were two irresponsible young men who told a story slandering two dragons. They made their living retelling this story, frightening people, spreading bias and fear against dragons, and hinting strongly that they were dragons themselves. They also hinted that they were being pursued by a black dragon, because of treachery on the part of a silver dragon, and embellished the story with other details that were almost completely untrue."
Gannie bristled. "We based that story on actual fact."
"You based it," Darien said coldly, "on a real black dragon and a real silver dragon. You made up all the rest."
"What's the harm in that?" Kory said feebly. "A story's a story."
Darien smiled at him. "Not always." He tapped his ring on the bar. "What kind of silly dragon would chase a pair of inn-hopping liars all over Krynn-"
The two storytellers smiled, relieved.
"-when all he had to do was find an inn, and wait there?"
Their smiles faded.
The innkeeper's shadow spread and lowered from the ceiling, and his arms seemed to fade into it, until a black dragon, ring of shaping still on his claw, was crouched in the dining hall. "I haven't finished paying my wager-" "We forgive you," Gannie squeaked.
"Quite all right, really," Kory quavered.
"Nonsense." He raised an obsidian claw, pretending to think. "Ah, yes. You said I should make you a meal." He smiled down at them, his sharp teeth gleaming red in the firelight. "My pleasure."
From the bar, a silver dragon said firmly, "Not inside, Jaegendar."
Although the window wasn't open, Kory and Gannie heeded her hint. The two dragons followed, pushing aside the shattered casement. The fire died completely as the sound of panicked screams and flapping wings faded in the distance.
The First Dragoarmy Engineer's Secret Weapon
Don Perrin and Margaret Weis
"Steady, steady ..." Kang cautioned.
The Sivak and Baaz draconians, manning the ballista, waited tensely, eagerly for their commander's order.
Just out of ballista range, the enemy-elven light cavalry-hovered, searching for holes in Ariakas's line of defense. The elf commander was endeavoring to find the weakest spot in the line, an area left unmanned by the notoriously sloppy and undisciplined forces of the dragonarmies.
Perhaps the slimy pointy-ear thought he'd found it. Kang grinned. The elf motioned a section of ten horsemen forward to check the right flank of the enemy lines.
Kang's voice was soft; only his men could hear him at first. "Hold up, steady, steady ..." He roared the word, "FIRE!"
As the first elf crossed a small, dried-out ravine and began moving to the far right, the ballista sent a giant bolt hurtling toward the second elf in line. The massive missile hit the elf squarely, sending him and his horse crashing into the elf behind them. Elves and horses went down in a tangle. No one stood up. The rest of the elves retreated quickly, taking with them their two dead. The elven scouting squadron retreated back to its own lines.
The weapon's crew yelled a hearty cheer, hoisting their banner and waving for the whole army to see.
Kang, a large Bozak draconian, stood behind the crew of Baaz and Sivak draconians manning the large, crossbowlike engine. He crossed his arms across his chest. Kang's grin widened. "Now they know we can hit out to the creek bed. They still don't know we can hit out to the road!"
His men were pounding each other on their scaly backs. Kang gave them a moment to celebrate-the Dark Queen knew there hadn't been many such moments lately. He was about to call them back to duty when a Sivak draconian emerged from the brush, came to stand in front of Kang.
The Sivak saluted. "Sir, Lord Rajak wants to see you in the Battle Tent. Right away."
"Rajak? What the hell does he want?" Kang growled. "We work for General Nemik."
Kang had been promoted to Division Engineer, and reported directly to the Division Commander. Six months before, he had been the Bridge Master of the Bridging Squadron under then Second-Aide Rajak. He and his command had proved, by building this ballista, that they could handle combat engineering. Nemik, one of the few skilled generals left in the dragonarmy, had been most complimentary on the draconians' work and had taken them under his direct command.
It was good, Kang felt, to be appreciated.
Not anymore, apparently. Kang had never liked Rajak, and the feeling was mutual. To Rajak, the draconians were meat to be flung to the enemy until the "real" fighting units-made up of humans-could take over.
"We work for General Nemik," Kang repeated stubbornly.
The Sivak shook his head. "No, sir. Not anymore. Nemik was promoted yesterday to Ariakas's SubCommander, after Boromond was axed last night during the raid. Lord Rajak is now the Division Commander of the First Division."
"By the Dark Queen's eyeballs!" Kang ground his teeth in frustration.
"Shall I tell Lord Rajak you're coming, sir?" the Sivak prodded. "He's waiting."
Kang was on the verge of telling Lord Rajak that he could pull up a chair in the Abyss and get comfortable, when his sub-commander, Slith, drew Kang aside.
"You've got to go, sir."
"The man's an idiot!" Kang fumed. "You know what he'll do with us! He'll put us on point or something equally as dangerous. He's had it out for us ever since that bridge collapsed under him at Verson's Lake. It was his own damned fault. I warned him not to try to bring those woolly mammoths across, but he wouldn't listen-"
Slith commiserated with his commander. "I know, sir, but you've got to talk to him." Slith lowered his voice. "You've heard the rumors, sir. This war's almost over and we're on the losing end. We're still alive, praise Her Dark Majesty, and I'd like to keep it that way. Don't give that bastard Rajak the chance to vent his anger on us before the finish."
Grumbling, Kang was forced to admit that Slith was right. Thanks to the bickering and infighting of the Dark Queen's commanders, the dragonarmies were being driven out of captured territory, forced to fall back on their central city of Neraka. The battles being fought now were not glorious victories, as they had been in the beginning. They were battles of desperation. No one wanted to die for what was so obviously a lost cause. Desertion was rife. Even those who remained loyal to the cause-such as Kang and his men-were reluctant to spend their lives to no purpose. Manning the long-range weapons, which inflicted casualities on the enemy at little danger to themselves, suited Kang fine.
Leaving Slith in charge, ordering the men to have the ballista ready for action on his return, Kang marched down the road toward the Battle Tent. The First Division flag flew in front of the Battle Tent, indicating that the division commander was inside. The human guards came lazily to attention and, though Kang outranked them, they didn't salute as the draconian entered.
"Ah, Kang. Come and sit down." Lord Rajak wore black leather armor, so new that it still glistened. Beside him sat two of the other regimental commanders and a huge minotaur warrior.
"As you no doubt have heard," Rajak continued, "I have been promoted to General, and now command the First Division. I am going to need excellent regimental commanders, and frankly, Kang, that doesn't include you. No offense, but we all know you lizard-boys are a bit thick, eh what?"
Kang's claws itched. It took every ounce of self-control the draconian possessed to keep from tearing off his commander's face and feeding it to him for lunch.
Rajak was continuing. He gestured toward the minotaur. "I want you to meet Tchk'pal. He will be your new commander. Commander of the Third Regiment, First Division."
Kang's anger was momentarily diverted by confusion. "Uh, sir, we don't have a third regiment in the division...."
Rajak waved his hand lazily. "My dear draco, you are the third regiment-you and your little band of engineers. It has become obvious to me that this army is wasting a valuable resource in you draconians. Engineering is better left to the humans, who have the mental capacities to undertake it. You draconians will now find your true calling, what you were intended to be all along. You will become the main fighting troops of the First Division! Commander Tchk'pal, here, will be given the honor of leading you."
Kang's scales clicked together in alarm. Not only was he being demoted, but he was being sent to the front of the fighting, with a minotaur warrior at the head!
And this was no ordinary minotaur warrior.
"You know Tchk'pal's reputation as a courageous fighter," Rajak was saying.
"I know his reputation, sir," Kang said darkly.
This Tchk'pal was single-handedly responsible for the fact that there were now no minotaurs left alive in the First Dragonarmy. He had led them all to death in suicide charges-stupid, behind-the-lines attacks that had no hope of success. For those under his command, at least. Somehow, Tchk'pal always managed to return.
"You have men ready," the minotaur said in what he took for the draconian language. "Me talk to men."
The dark clerics maintained that Sargas, god of the minotaur, was the Dark Queen's consort. Kang could not approve Her Majesty's choice in companions.
Glumly, Kang saluted, and left the tent.
He ran back down the road to his command bunker. Mud huts formed the sleeping and living quarters of the two hundred draconians under his command. Here, too, was the construction area for the battle engines, such as the ballista. The bunker had been dug into the side of a hill.
Kang pulled open the wooden door, paused to let his eyes adjust to the cool darkness after the glaring sunshine outdoors.
Slith and the commanders of the seven engineer troops sat around the table waiting for Kang's return.
"That was fast!" Slith said. Noting the droop of Kang's wings, the sub-commander added, "That bad, huh?"
Kang gasped for breath. He wasn't used to running. "We've been turned into the Third Infantry Regiment!"
Slith scrapped his claws across the wood table, leaving long scratch marks.
Gloth, one of the Bozaks, and admittedly none too bright, blinked and said, "Infantry! That means the front lines! A fellow could get killed doing that!"
Kang sucked in a breath, about to add the really bad news, when it walked through the door.
"Enough talk!" Tchk'pal loomed in the doorway, an enormous battle-axe in his hairy hands. He had a bovine stink to him that was particularly repulsive to the reptilian draconians. "Have all troops form ranks. I talk to lizard-boys about tomorrow's battle!"
Lizard-boys! Kang's tongue flickered out from between his teeth. Gloth, knowing his commander's temper, involuntarily cringed.
Reluctantly, slowly, Kang saluted his new regimental commander. "Yes, sir. Right away, sir."
The rest of the draconian officers slid out of the bunker, ran back to their troops.
The sun was halfway down the sky, slumping toward the forest. The battlements faced east, toward the armies of the Golden General, their archenemy. Her army had dogged them for the last six months, forcing retreat after retreat. Intelligence reported that the Golden General was no longer leading her troops, that she had been abducted by the Dark Queen and that her forces were in disarray.
Kang didn't believe it. If anything, such news would only make the elves fight harder. And their officers at least seemed to be able to work together, were not always backstabbing each other. He had no say in command decisions, however. The First Dragonarmy had been ordered to stop its retreat, to stand and face the elves and knights. The entire First Dragonarmy had dug in, was waiting for the assault.
The two hundred draconians of the Third Regiment lined the mud and wooden ramparts. Seven ballistae were arranged along the defenses, each crewed by a troop of twenty draconians. In front of the ramparts stood Tchk'pal, waving that great bloody battle-axe around.
Kang hoped the minotaur would cut off something valuable.
"Glory is upon you, draconian warriors!" Tchk'pal announced. "Tomorrow is going to be big battle. Many thousands of warriors will die tomorrow. Probably most of you! You die with honor! We not hide behind dirt! We charge forth, meet our enemy, and slice their heads off! We going to find great glory for Queen of Darkness and Sargas, God of War!"
The minotaur ranted on like this for almost an hour. Eventually, exhausting his store of draconian language, Tchk'pal reverted back to minotaur, which few of the draconians understood. They stared at
him in bemusement.
Slith stood beside Kang, who was shaking his head.
"You speak cow. What in the Abyss is he saying?" Kang whispered.
"Beats the hell outta me," Slith returned. "Some minotaur battle story or something. He keeps mentioning glory, death, and honor in the same sentence. And 'jumping into the heart of the fighting.' You know, with all this talk of fighting, I'm starting to get nervous. Like Gloth says, a fellow could get killed! And just when I was beginning to think we might live through this."
Slith edged closer, lowered his voice. "You've heard the scuttlebutt. So what if this Golden General's been snatched? They got more generals, don't they? We're losing and losing badly! Everyone knows it. You know what I've been thinking?" His red eyes had a dreamy look to them. "We-you and me and the boys-we get away from here and we start a little settlement in the Khalkist mountains. I hear there's hill dwarves living there. Dwarves are energetic bastards. They grow crops, raise cattle, haul stone out of the mountains, that sort of rot. We could raid their villages, from time to time, whenever we needed supplies. Life could be good...."
Kang regarded his sub-commander with admiration. "That's really beautiful, Slith."
"Ah, well." Slith shrugged. His tone grew bitter. "Who am I kidding? We'll never live long enough to see the Khalkist mountains."
Kang grunted. "We've got to do something about our new commander, and fast. All this nonsense about death and glory and honor. We'll be slaughtered and you can bet that no one's going to sing any ballads for us!"
Tchk'pal ranted on. Many of the draconians, standing in the warm sun, were beginning to nod off, when suddenly Tchk'pal switched back to the draconian's own language.
"Here is plan for battle tomorrow. We will seek out the enemy's strongest point and rush forth to meet it! We will crush all resistance before us! Open up great hole. It will be glorious!"
"Open up great holes all right," Slith said sullenly. "In us! Say, sir..." The Sivak edged closer. "What if we paid our commander a little visit in his tent tonight?" The draconian drew his dagger, flourished it.
2 - The Dragons at War Page 21