The War of the Lance t2-3

by Margaret Weis

  The knights sought and slaughtered the monsters of the Green Wing for the rest of that grim and bloody day until the tattered remnants of the force finally slipped into the wilderness of the Dargaard Mountains.

  It is interesting to note, Your Grace, that by dint of this tactic, Laurana left her own ground forces open to the same kind of attack by the blue dragons in Dargaard. She was bold enough to gamble (correctly, it turned out) that Kitiara was still too chastened by her defeat at the High Clerist's Tower to risk sending her most powerful forces into a possible trap.

  After the Battle of Throtl, Laurana once again divided her army. She sent many of the dragons — all of the brass and bronze, with some of the copper — to guard the portion of her army that marched on the ground. The other dragons scattered across the plain, to all points of the compass, seeking the dragonarmies. Laurana knew that elements of the White Wing lay somewhere to the south, but she had no clue as to the location of the mighty Red Wing.

  And still there was the presence of Ariakus's huge reserve wing, vanished since it had departed Sanction. Laurana dispatched a pair of the precious silver dragons toward that glowering seaport, determined to learn what she would about the reserve army's location.

  When the scouting dragons discovered forces of the Dark Queen, they were to report the location of those troops to the Golden General. Under no circumstances were they to precipitate an attack. I surmise, Excellency, that these dragons performed the reconnaissances in the guise of soaring birds of prey. At least, the records of the dragonarmies show no sign that they knew they were under observation — and Laurana's assignment of the scouting to the golds, silvers, and coppers indicates a preference for those dragons who could polymorph themselves into the bodies of different creatures. And what better than a hawk or eagle, symbolically patrolling over the plains?

  The soaring spies first spotted the strong contingent of the White Wing, larger than the Throtl Legion and including many sivak draconians (the only draconian, as Your Grace well knows, capable of true flight). Dragonarmy records show that this force had been ordered northward by Ariakus himself more than a week earlier. (After the battle at the Clerist's tower, the emperor had anticipated the need for additional forces in the plains, and issued the necessary orders.)

  The White Wing was discovered by none other than Silvara, herself, as the great silver dragon flew a southwestward arc in her search. The force had just crossed the Dargaard River, and marched northward along the east bank of the Vingaard, placing it squarely across Laurana's line of retreat. The river here flows through the rock-carved channel noted by Markham — a gorge that is some twenty miles long.

  (Silvara flew alone on this scouting mission. I submit, Your Grace, that the absence of Gilthanas from her back supports the idea that she flew in the body of a bird, rather than as a dragon.)

  Laurana's response to the information was immediate and bold: she reversed her army's line of advance and urged the troops into a forced march straight into the advancing White Wing. Each scouting dragon, as it returned from its patrol, rejoined the army, until the Golden General again held all her dragons close to the body of the force. Within twenty-four hours, the Army of Solamnia was massed and focused on a single line of march, screened by a picket line of flying, griffonmounted elves.

  The White Wing, in contrast, had not yet located its foe, though it marched along Laurana's trail, and must have known that the Army of Solamnia had preceded it only by a matter of days. A wide screen of sivak draconians flew ahead of the wing, while the white dragons remained behind with the main body.

  The following day near noon, the sivaks and elves came into sight of each other nearly a thousand feet above the ground. The armies advanced to meet on the bank of the Vingaard River, near the rapid channel called, simply, the Narrows. (That channel would give its name to the battle that occurred here.) The airborne skirmish was quickly reinforced by dragons on both sides, and by midafternoon the forces on the ground had formed parallel lines of battle.

  Finally Laurana found the chance to unleash her horsemounted knights, and the lancers of Solamnia added much glory to their names on this bloody afternoon. The Knights of the Rose led the charge, supported quickly by those of the Sword — and here, Excellency, we learn the name of the captain called so quaintly by Mellison "Sir Rose." He is Bendford Caerscion, and he led this thunderous advance from the saddle of his night-black charger. His report to Gunthar gives us a first-hand and thorough account of this pivotal melee.

  "Eagerly the knights answered the call to attack — trumpets brayed and our restless steeds exploded into a gallop. Pounding hooves reverberated through the ground as the line of armored knights and horses gained unstoppable momentum. My heart swelled with pride — the moment culminated a lifetime of training and devotion. A heavy lance, well-couched at my right side, extended far past my war-horse's snorting head.

  "The plain before me seethed with draconians. I saw their snapping jaws, heard them hissing in hatred and fear, as we knights stampeded closer. The reptilian horrors bore swords and shields. The few with spears lacked the wits to brace them to meet the charge. As our thunderous formation neared the draconians, several companies of baaz turned and fled — crashing into a rank of brutal sivaks who tried to whip them back to the fight.

  "But it was too late. My knights ripped into the ragged line of draconians with scarcely a falter in their momentum. My lance pierced the body of a huge sivak, pinning the creature to the ground. I released my lance and drew my sword. The monster remained stuck on the lance, its wings flapping, feet kicking, like some monstrous insect pinned to a display board.

  "The knights' charge smashed draconian after draconian to the ground, crushing their limbs with pounding hooves, for we were rumbling forward at a fast canter. I slashed this way and that with my blade, aiming for the heads of the monsters and leaving a dozen badly injured in my wake.

  "Then we broke through, leaving the shattered remnants of the draconian force to scatter in panicked flight. I hauled back on my reins as soon as the enemy broke from the fight, but my horse — and most of the others — were so excited that they continued the frenzied race for nearly a mile.

  "Our two companies of knights numbered less than three hundred in total, but the stampeding momentum of our charge split the draconian line in two. We whirled back and rode against a small contingent of hobgoblins mounted on great wolves. This rabble, too, was quickly scattered or destroyed.

  "A shadow flashed over me as this melee ended in the enemy's rout. I felt a chill wind strike me and then, to my horror, I saw a trio of brave knights — riding in close formation — buried beneath the full weight of a diving white dragon. The monster bore men and horses to earth, and dispatched the riders with crushing blows of its great claws and rending teeth.

  "Then the serpent's jaws gaped and it belched forth a swirling cloud of numbingly cold frost, slaying several more horses and riders in an instant. I urged my charger toward the monster, but the steady horse refused to go near — and then the dragon turned its attention to me. I prepared myself to die in that moment — but a new shadow flicked past, and in the next instant a huge silver dragon flashed overhead. Its rider — a golden-haired elf — thrust a heavy dragonlance through the white's wing, and then the great silver broke the wyrm's neck with a single bite.

  "With a salute of thanks, I recognized Gilthanas — and then we two parted and rode on, seeking the scattered troops of the beleaguered enemy."

  All this time the Golden General kept the Knights of the Crown — most numerous of the knightly orders — in reserve. Sir Patrick and Sir Markham no doubt chafed at this delay. It is perhaps well for the sensitivities of this historian that I find no exact record of their remarks, as they were forced to sit idle and watch the orders of the Sword and Rose acquit themselves with glory.

  Meanwhile, the men of Palanthas met the charge of baaz draconians with pike and shield, while companies of irregular sword-and-buckler men harassed the f
lanks of the White Wing. In the sky, the battle raged fierce and costly for both sides. The powerful good dragons eventually slew the last of the whites and their riders, but not before nearly two dozen of them perished — including two silvers and a gold.

  Then, as sunset began to cast its shadows across the field, Laurana sent in the Knights of the Crown — five hundred armored riders on eager steeds, charging with their lances, in a thunderous rush that swept the battered remnants of the White Wing from the field. By nightfall, the evil forces were in full retreat, though Laurana ordered a pursuit that continued into the following day. Only when she was convinced that the enemy troops were beyond reassembling did she order her army again to concentrate, turning about to resume the advance toward Dargaard and Kalaman.

  From here, Excellency, I depart to follow in the path of that great march. My eventual destination is that great seaport — though on the way, I shall, of course, stop to examine the scene of Laurana's greatest triumph.

  It is for this purpose, therefore, that tomorrow I embark for Margaard Ford.

  Until that time I endeavor in the service of history,

  Foryth Teel

  To the Great Astinus, Lorekeeper of Krynn,

  I return to the Vingaard River again, Excellency, as did Laurana's army. It becomes increasingly clear to me how the Golden General employed this great flow of water as the keystone of her campaign — using it to screen her movements, defend her force, and — by crossing unexpectedly — surprise her enemy.

  After the Battle of the Narrows, Laurana resumed her northeastward push, but misgivings clearly began to grow among the knights. Palanthas and the High Clerist's tower lay too far behind them, now, and the forces of the Dark Lady were known to be mustering at Dargaard.

  The losses from this battle — the first pitched fight since the High Clerist's Tower — had been high. We can only guess at the heartache the Golden General must have felt. Did each fallen knight remind her of her dear friend — the stalwart Brightblade? Elves had fallen, and Laurana well knew that each of those deaths had cut short many centuries of life. And the human foot soldiers who had rallied to her cause — surely their loss, too, was as bitter a waste to the elf woman.

  Mellison's diary tells us that Laurana retired early to her tent for the nights following that battle, foregoing the camaraderie that had begun to grow between the captains and their general. For three days the army marched steadily, but not frantically. Laurana made certain that the troops and dragons had opportunities to rest, that the horses could graze on the newly sprouted grass beginning to carpet the plain. Spring storms to the east shrouded the Dargaard Mountains, but the skies over the army remained clear.

  Finally, on the fourth day after the Battle of the Narrows, the scouting dragons reported back. The Red Wing was on the march, and had been discovered to the southeast, advancing steadily toward Dargaard. Heavy rains accompanied by thick clouds and fog continued to mask the mountains for much of this time, and shortly after the marching column was sighted, it disappeared into the foothills. The Red Wing might as well have vanished, screened as it was by the weather against further observation.

  That night, Laurana held another council of war — and again Mellison was present to record the first part of the discussions.

  "We must take up a defensive position!" Sir Patrick urged. "I admit, my general, that your leadership has carried us to victories beyond my wildest dreams. But now — we still don't know where the Emperor's main body is. The clouds mask our entire right flank while we march in the open, day after day! The attack could come with barely an hour's warning. And if it catches us in line of march, we will be smashed and broken in detail!"

  "Bah!" Gilthanas — undoubtedly nervous himself — exploded in a rare show of temper. "These dragons are not defensive creatures! If you tie them to one location, you deprive them of their strength. Can't you knights force that fact through your Oath-and-Measure-bound skulls?"

  Sir Patrick stiffened, his hand going to the hilt of his sword, but the Golden General stepped smoothly between the two. Laurana did not involve herself in the quarrel. Instead, she turned to Lord Sword. "And you, my lord, do you have thoughts on this topic?"

  That white-whiskered veteran sighed and shook his head. "I don't know what to believe any more, general. For a certainty you have shown us the value of speed and movement. But Sir Patrick makes a valid point. Without knowledge of the enemy's location, how can we know where to move?"

  The elven princess pondered the lord's words, then turned to Sir Caerscion and Sir Markham, who had remained silent up until this point.

  "And you, good sirs?" Laurana asked. "Do you counsel a stand here, on the plain?"

  "I do, general," Sir Caerscion replied. "With a few days to prepare entrenchments, and a good scouting effort, we can make a strong position. The Dark Lady will find us and attack, but we will meet her forces well-rested and prepared to fight."

  "But if we stop, the Highlord will be able to strike us with every weapon at her disposal. That includes the Red Wing — and we still don't know where the reserve army is. Whereas, if we keep moving we force the enemy to keep pursuing. It is far less likely that they will gather the concentration they could muster if we stopped." Markham's remarks provoked a scowl of angry disapproval from Sir Patrick.

  Laurana smiled, pleasantly surprised by the young captain's observations. "Exactly! That's why we resume the march, tomorrow, but with a change in course."

  "AGAIN!" cried Patrick in exasperation. "If you must march, let us at least fall back on Palanthas!"

  "We will, Sir Patrick. Only not quite that far. Our destination is the final battleground. And that — I mean to ensure — will be our own choosing."

  Lord Sword gestured to the flat plains stretching away on all sides. "One patch of the grass is pretty much like another."

  "For the most part," Laurana agreed. "But there are exceptions."

  The others paused, curious to know what she would tell them next. Markham had a half-smile on his face. Lord Sword and Sir Caerscion waited with obvious apprehension. Gilthanas seemed bored and restless, his eyes drifting over to the great silver dragon resting beyond the fringes of the fire.

  Sir Patrick, of course, scowled in preliminary displeasure. Finally he could hold his tongue no longer. "Exceptions?" he grumbled.

  "Exactly," announced the Golden General. "Exceptions like rivers. That's why, as soon as we reach the near bank, we will again cross the Vingaard."

  The council paused as the captains registered their surprise in raised eyebrows or shrewd squints. For once, however, the knights did not greet their general's plan with a chorus of objections — the advantages of her plan were obvious to all of them. Once they had crossed to the west bank — or the north, actually, for the river had already begun its broad sweep eastward toward Kalaman — they would place the river as barrier between them and the dragonarmies of the Red and Blue Wings.

  "But don't we allow them the chance to concentrate their forces? We've labored long to avoid giving them the opportunity until now," ventured Sir Markham perceptively.

  Laurana frowned. Her face, in the play of the slowly fad ing fire, took on again that look of age. Lines of strain lingered in shadows around her cheeks and her eyes.

  "We do," she admitted. "My hope is that Ariakus and Kitiara will see their quarry slipping back to the safety of the High Clerist's Tower and come after us in a hurry. If the Red Wing reaches the river first, we can goad it into crossing before the reserve army or the Blue Wing can join up."

  "And if they don't?" suggested Sir Patrick, belligerently.

  "You were right in the observation you made before, Sir Patrick," Laurana said, causing the knight to clamp his mouth shut and blink his eyes in surprise. "The clouds over the Dargaard Range hide our foes from us. If we remain this far east, the entire assembled dragonarmy can strike us before we have time to react. That's why we need the river."

  "Will we fly the troops across again?" asked
Lord Sword, with a worried look. "That was a slow process, and we couldn't expect to do it uninterrupted a second time."

  "We'll have to," Sir Caerscion noted. "There is a ford in the bend of the River — Margaard Ford, I believe it's called — but it's certain to be too dangerous to use at this time of year. The current would carry an armored knight and his warhorse away, not to mention the poor blighters on foot."

  "It may be that we can use the ford. I won't know until tomorrow. I am weary, gentlemen. I bid you good night." Laurana turned away, and only Mellison saw the smile that creased the general's lips. By her remark about the ford, it was obvious Laurana's plan was already in her mind, though she did not share it with anyone.

  So the army once more broke camp before the dawn, turning back toward the Vingaard. The mighty river, no more than ten miles away, to the northwest, was swollen by the spring melt. By the end of a single day of marching, the entire army reached the bank — but even before then, Laurana had embarked upon the next part of her plan.

  As the army marched toward Margaard Ford, the Golden General dispatched her" brass and bronze dragons to the edge of the cloud bank, there to patrol and watch for signs of the emerging dragonarmies. Meanwhile, Laurana, mounted on her gold dragon, flew southward, toward the tightest bottleneck of the Narrows. She took all of the silver dragons with her, including the mighty Silvara with her brother Gilthanas astride.

  "We followed her without question," Gilthanas reported to his brother, Porthios, by letter. "By this time, our faith in Laurana was absolute — even the gruff captains of the knightly orders had begun to treat her with a 'measure' of respect!

  "I have traveled along the bank of the Narrows, and there can be no doubt as to the site Laurana selected for the work of the silver dragons: gray walls of granite rise a hundred feet on either side of the river, forcing the wide Vingaard through a ravine merely two hundred feet wide. In spring, the swollen river becomes an angry torrent, cascading through a forest of boulders, its waters churned into a chaotic maelstrom.