Dragons' Onyx

by Richard S. Tuttle

  “May you never make friends with deer and cattle,” quipped Rylana.

  Chapter 10

  Infiltration

  The Lanoirian cavalry column entered the valley in pairs. It was a sparsely treed valley, and the Lanoirians rode up the center of it. The first two riders were trackers, and they kept their eyes on the ground in front of them looking for the telltale signs of other recent riders. The other riders, tired from a full day’s patrol, paid little attention to their surroundings. The fact that there was little concealment in the valley added to their laxness. The exit from the valley was narrow, as was the entrance they had just come through. As the trackers passed through the narrow exit, one of them became alert. The tracks that he detected were either old, or someone had taken great pains to eradicate them. He slowed down and pointed out the tracks to his partner.

  On the ridge above the Lanoirians, Adan noticed the trackers’ change in tempo.

  “Here we go,” he said softly as he nocked an arrow. “Remember, they do not all die, but the officers cannot be allowed to live.”

  Several gypsies within the range of Adan’s voice nodded their heads and nocked arrows. Adan let fly the first arrow of the ambush. In a matter of moments, hundreds of arrows streamed down into the Lanoirian column. Confusion ripped through the Lanoirian column like a tornado through a pile of hay. Some of the soldiers reacted by charging towards the exit. Some retreated into the valley, while others attempted to fight back by firing arrows up towards the ridge. Little did they know that the gypsies were fleeing after the initial volley. It was several long minutes before anyone realized that the attack was over.

  “Gather the wounded and form up quickly,” ordered the Lanoirian officer. “Move it! I want to be out of this valley before they try attacking again.”

  “Are we giving chase?” one of the Lanoirians asked the officer.

  “Look around you, soldier,” snapped the officer. “We have more wounded men than fit. We need to get back to camp and send a fresh patrol out.”

  “Yes, Sir,” the soldier nodded as he took off in search of wounded men to help.

  The officer sat impatiently while he waited for the column to form up. He shook his head with contempt and scowled under his breath. The soldiers avoided his gaze. One of the soldiers, braver than the rest, rode up to the officer and saluted.

  “I don’t recall your name, Sir,” reported the soldier, “but you are the only officer alive. The men are formed and waiting for direction.”

  “Good,” the officer nodded with more compassion than before. “The name is Officer Bin-lu for those who don’t remember me. My task is to get you safely back to camp without another ambush so that our wounded can get to a healer. Move out.”

  The soldier nodded gratefully and signaled the rest of the men. The column started to move swiftly, and the officer had to shout orders to keep the men from spooking. He was determined to bring the column back to camp in an organized fashion. The men finally settled down to a decent pace. They were no longer lax in their observations. Their eyes roved from side to side the entire trip back.

  The guards at the edge of the massive camp saw the patrol coming. A runner was sent to notify an officer and get the healers prepared. By the time the patrol arrived at the guards, two officers were waiting for them.

  “Report,” commanded one of the officers.

  “We were ambushed in a valley about three leagues west of here,” reported Bin-lu. “We encountered archers from above without notice. Our trackers did not detect them until it was too late. We have a great number of wounded. May I see to the men before continuing?”

  “I think your men can find their way to the healers,” scowled the officer. “Did you annihilate the enemy?”

  Officer Bin-lu turned and waved his men by. “Make sure the most seriously wounded get treated first,” he called to his men. “I want them well enough to go back out and get those murderous scum.”

  “So you didn’t kill them all?” questioned the officer.

  “No, we didn’t” admitted Bin-lu, “but we are sure going to. Nobody hits my patrol like that and gets to live long afterwards. I will track those Sordoans down if it takes days to find them.”

  “Your patrol is over for this day,” the officer shook his head. “I think you will find that the emperor does not take kindly to cowardice.”

  “Cowardice?” balked Bin-lu as he saw some of his men hanging around. “Do not ever call my men cowards,” he ranted. “They fought courageously and are ready to go back out for more. It was only my insistence on getting our wounded off the field of battle that caused us to return here. These Sordoans are known for circling back to kill the wounded. What they won’t expect is for us to track them at night.”

  The officers exchanged puzzled glances with each other. Most units were quite content to stay in the camp, not head out for double duty. When they heard of a column coming in with a large number of wounded, they immediately assumed cowardice on the part of the officers. It was quite typical.

  “What is your name, Officer,” asked one of the officers.

  “Officer Bin-lu,” the Knight replied. “Can I collect my men now? I am sure that the wounded have been deposited.”

  “You would need permission to go back out,” one of the officers shook his head. “You are not likely to get it. Where are the other officers?”

  “None of the others made it,” frowned Bin-lu. “They were all traveling In a group together. I was riding up with the trackers or my men would have had no direction at all.”

  “Emperor Hanchi is not going to be pleased to hear of this loss,” commented the other officer.

  “He will be more pleased with the results if you let my patrol go back out,” shrugged Bin-lu. “My men are itching for revenge. Aren’t you, men?”

  The men of the ambushed patrol were thankful to be alive and back in camp, but they also knew what the emperor’s displeasure often meant, and that was more dangerous. Spontaneously, they all started shouting for revenge.

  “Well,” one of the officers shook his head, “your men certainly have spirit, Officer Bin-lu. Still, I am not willing to authorize your patrol going back out tonight. You are free to take it up with the emperor’s staff if you wish. You will probably need to see them for the investigation anyway.”

  “Feed your men and let them rest,” suggested the other officer. “These patrols will not be necessary in a few days anyway. I heard that we will be attacking soon. Your men will see plenty of action then.”

  Bin-lu frowned and rode towards his men while the two officers turned and headed towards the center of the camp. He dismounted among the men of his patrol.

  “That is not how the battle went,” declared one of the soldiers. “The other officers were not clumped together, and you were not riding with the trackers. What game are you playing?”

  “I have no idea how the battle went,” admitted Bin-lu. “In fact, I was just getting there when it happened. What would you have had me tell those officers? Should I have said that my men were lax and not paying attention when the enemy struck? Do you have any idea what happens to returning patrols that have failed in their mission? Is that what you wanted me to say?”

  “But we didn’t do anything wrong,” retorted one of the soldiers. “You were ready to drag us back out there so that you could earn the emperor’s favor. Our lives mean nothing to you.”

  “Quite the opposite,” frowned Bin-lu. “Those officers accused you men of being cowards. I do not have to tell you what happens to cowards in this army. If I cared little for you men, I would have agreed with them and complained about your character. What I said, I said for your benefit, not mine. I didn’t even arrive until it was all over. I could not be faulted as you men could be.”

  “He is right,” one of the soldiers interjected. “I think we all need to sing the same song when this investigation begins. If not, we will all die. I have heard of other failures, and they are dealt with harshly.”

/>   “Let’s get to our area and have a meal,” suggested Bin-lu. “We can discuss what needs to be done. I was just assigned to this group today, so I am going to need suggestions on who should be promoted to fill in the ranks.”

  The soldiers brightened at the prospect of some of them becoming officers. Soon the talk revolved around their harrowing escape from death and not Bin-lu. That was just how the Knight wanted it to be.

  * * *

  “Well, how does it feel to back in the action, little brother?” Adan slapped Tedi on the back.

  “It feels good,” grinned Tedi. “I hope Bin-lu survives his trip to the camp.”

  “He made it to their camp alive,” informed Hortice. “I followed them to make sure. He is a brave man to infiltrate the Lanoirians.”

  “One doesn’t get to be a Knight of Alcea by being timid,” agreed Tedi. “Bin-lu has more than his fair share of courage. How often have you been hitting their patrols?”

  “This is only the second one,” answered Adan. “The first one was totally wiped out. The Lanoirians will not find the bodies either. It is how I prefer to fight. This letting some of them go is risky.”

  “It is worth it,” assured Tedi. “Bin-lu is the only one who can get the information from inside the camp. That information will be valuable.”

  “I agree,” declared Natia. “Wiping out patrols will hardly affect the Lanoirians. They just have too many men.”

  “And too many horses,” chuckled Adan, “but we can help them with that problem.”

  “Like only gypsies can,” grinned Natia.

  * * *

  “Try it yourself,” coached Mustar. “It is only with practice that a mage achieves the proper results.”

  Fredrik nodded and concentrated on the campfire where Podil and Niki sat talking. He closed his eyes tightly and ran the spell through his mind. Feeling confident, Fredrik opened his eyes and cast the spell. Twenty paces away, a duplicate vision of the campfire appeared. The two campfires were alike in every respect. His eyes went from one to the other and back again. Fredrik beamed at his accomplishment.

  “Not bad for your first attempt,” sighed Mustar. “You do indeed have some talent.”

  Fredrik was deflated. “Not bad?” he frowned. “It is identical. What more could you ask for?”

  “The object of an illusion is to misinform,” lectured Mustar. “All you have done is create confusion. Confusion can be handy at times, but that is not what this lesson is about.”

  “What is the difference?” inquired Fredrik.

  If a stranger was to enter this camp right now,” explained Mustar, “he would see two campfires. He would also see two sets of Podil and Niki. He would be confused as to which one is real, but he would definitely know that one was a false image. Therefore, all you have done is confuse him. Relinquish your spell and I will show you what I mean.”

  Fredrik frowned, but he dismissed his illusion. Mustar nodded to his student and flicked his wrist for effect. Fredrik blinked his eyes and saw the illusion of a campfire near where his was. The difference between his illusion and Mustar’s was that there were no people around the master’s illusion. Mustar flicked his wrist again, and Fredrik strained his eyes to see what was different. He could not detect what Mustar’s second spell had accomplished. Before he could ask the master, Mustar’s wrist flicked a third time. Fredrik blinked again and his jaw dropped as he stared at the two campfires. Podil and Niki were gone from the first campfire. The two women now sat around the campfire created by Mustar. A fourth flick of Mustar’s wrist and the original campfire was gone.

  “Now should that stranger come into this campsite,” declared Mustar, “he would not be confused at all. He would merely believe that Niki and Podil were having lessons around the campfire. He would, of course, be wrong about where they were. That is the true purpose of an illusion. It is not to create confusion in the viewer’s mind, but rather to deceive him.”

  “I see the difference,” Fredrik nodded thoughtfully. “I am confused with your spells, though. I understand the first one, but the second did not appear to have any effect at all.”

  “A proper illusion is done incrementally,” explained Master Mustar. “You already understand the first. It merely copied the image of the campfire and the women. That is exactly what the second did as well, but the image was placed directly over the reality I was copying. The purpose of this is to segregate the pieces of the illusion. In my final image, I want three independent illusions. Well, four actually, but let me start with just three. I want a copy of the campfire, a copy of Podil, and a copy of Niki. Do you know why?”

  “So you can manipulate the images separately?” guessed Fredrik.

  “Exactly,” nodded Mustar. “A good illusion must be believable, not a painting that is frozen in time. The actors must move, and move naturally. My second spell created images of Podil and Niki. My third spell moved those images to my created campfire image.”

  “And the fourth spell?” questioned Fredrik.

  “It conjures the fourth image needed to complete the deception,” smiled Mustar. “The fourth spell hides the original campfire with an illusion of bare ground. Each of these four images is now independently controllable. I could, for example, have Podil rise and walk over to the bare ground. I could also make her disappear completely once she arrived there.”

  “How could you do that?” inquired Fredrik.

  “Because the fourth image obscures the real Podil from sight,” explained Mustar, “I could simply release the spell that created her likeness. It would appear as if she had simply vanished.”

  “Fascinating,” smiled Fredrik. “You have much to teach me, Master Mustar.”

  “Indeed,” agreed Mustar, “but that is enough for now. I have little temperament for teaching. My existence is driven by research. That is why I do not leave my home. There is little in this world that interests me.”

  “As long as there is a world for you to dismiss,” retorted Fredrik. “Alutar can threaten that. I understand why you have come out of the desert to travel with Master Khatama, but why has Podil come? Surely, it is not just to teach healing spells to Niki?”

  “I do not know the reason for her being here,” frowned Mustar. “I am sure that the Mage has a reason for her presence. He does not share all of his thoughts with me.”

  “Do you know where we are going?” pushed Fredrik.

  “I know the geography,” shrugged Mustar. “We are paralleling the Southern Mountains. There is not much up this way other than the Lanoirian town of Pog and the surrounding fishing villages. It is on the edge of the Great Sordoan Desert.”

  “Why would we be going there?” questioned Fredrik.

  “You should direct your questions to Master Khatama,” frowned Mustar. “I have never heard of any reason for one to visit Pog. It is a dreary place from all accounts.”

  * * *

  “You returned alive,” greeted Jorgel. “Must be that you couldn’t find the dragons, I guess.”

  “Quite the contrary,” replied Prince Garong. “Valon spoke with the dragons at length.”

  “Spoke with them?” Jorgel asked unbelievingly. “That is hard to believe. I see that he still walks.”

  “He is an amazing person,” smiled the elf prince. “Ask him yourself. Here he comes.”

  “How is your leg, Jorgel?” asked King Arik as he crossed the small clearing before Jorgel’s hut.

  “My leg is just fine,” shrugged old man. “I told you it was just a scratch.”

  “Just a scratch?” questioned the king. “I thought you would lose your leg.”

  “It takes a hardy soul to live in these woods,” countered Jorgel. “I ain’t no easy going city lad. It will take more than a gash from a dragon to slow me down. The next time I will teach that dragons some manners.”

  “There will not be a next time,” smiled King Arik. “The dragons will not attack you any more as long as you don’t antagonize them.”

  “They won�
�t?” Jorgel questioned suspiciously. “And how would you know that? Don’t tell that your little band killed them all?”

  “I spoke with them,” explained the king. “They promised to leave you alone.”

  “That is what the elf said,” frowned Jorgel. “I didn’t believe him. Why should I believe you?”

  “Garala doesn’t lie,” Prince Darok growled in a threatening voice.

  Jorgel winced and backed up a step as he stared at the menacing dwarf with half of his beard missing.

  “Let’s just say that we came to an understanding,” smiled King Arik. “You can choose to believe me or not, as you choose. It is good enough for me that they have promised not to eat you. We are heading back to our ship. If you would care to leave these forests behind, you are welcome to join us for the voyage.”

  “This is my home,” the old man shook his head. “It is where I intend to die. In the meantime, I will enjoy it.”

  “Very well,” nodded King Arik. “Allow us to have a meal with you tonight, and we will leave in the morning.”

  “You are welcome here,” nodded Jorgel. “Tell me what really happened up there on the mountain.”

  “I did talk with the dragons,” insisted King Arik. “Although they did not know me, they were expecting me. It is a long story and I will tell it over the meal, but I must get Prince Midge off to Tagaret first. It appears that my quest will take me back in that direction.”

  “So you didn’t get what you came here for?” asked Jorgel.

  “It was important for me to come here,” clarified King Arik, “but the gem that I seek is heading westward.”

  “The gem is moving?” pushed Jorgel.

  “It is,” nodded King Arik as he withdrew the Sword of Heavens and rotated. “It is getting farther away every moment. A dragon is carrying it. I must pursue him.”

  “And kill him,” added Pioti.

  “How can you hope to catch a dragon and kill him?” questioned the old man. “They are too fierce to fight, unless this one is weak.”