Dragonmaster

by Chris Bunch

  As briefed, they flew high across the front, keeping a sharp eye out for Roche patrols, then dove down, beyond the archers and crossbowmen.

  They flew due east, until the land below was empty of soldiery, turned northerly toward Aude.

  Hal flew behind the knoll, then darted up, and landed on the clear crest. Garadice and Sir Loren flew in circles, hidden by the knoll, watching for any Roche dragons.

  Beyond, across the Comtal River Valley, lay Aude.

  “And here we are,” he said, sliding out of his saddle.

  Sir Cantabri took his hand, staggered, then went to a patch of brush and threw up in a dignified way.

  When he’d finished, Hal handed him his canteen.

  “No,” Cantabri said. “Get mine. It’s got brandy in it.”

  Hal obeyed. Cantabri rinsed his mouth, then swallowed, sighed.

  “I’d be most beholden, Lord Kailas,” he said, curiously formal, “if you could find your way not to discuss my body’s weaknesses unless you must.

  “But I shall admit to you I have a desperate fear of heights.”

  Hal was surprised, not only that Cantabri was afraid of anything, but that he had the courage to admit to it.

  He thought he still had a great deal to learn about bravery, took out his glass, and studied Aude. Cantabri did the same.

  It was even worse than the map had suggested. The Comtal, deep, wide, unfordable, protected three sides of the city. And it was a city, almost as large as Paestum.

  But where Paestum had grown beyond its walls, Aude still hid behind them. The city had been built on a high bluff. There were double-turreted walls, machicolated and strongly held.

  Inside the second of these ran the town, zigging, narrow alleys Hal knew would be deadly to fight through, easy to defend, to a final stronghold, with its own walls and round keep.

  There was a broad ramp on the third side, but this was well protected with pairs of interlocking gatehouses.

  Assaulting this castle would be an utter nightmare. Hal didn’t think it could be taken by any human forces, not unless there were enough soldiers willing to have their bodies stacked to the tops of the walls for others to climb on, and then die, in their turn, within the city.

  Hal remembered Serjeant Te’s words, almost looked at Cantabri’s hands, to see if there might really be blood dripping from them.

  33

  It was a brisk late spring morning when, to the roll of drums and the thunder of horses’ hooves, the First and Second Armies went on the attack.

  Hal and his flight were reconning for the First Army, and, from high above, it looked splendid—the Roche lines being broken by the heavy cavalry, light cavalry pouring through the gaps, and a steady stream of infantry securing the positions, then moving on.

  This, Hal was glad to see, wasn’t like the abortive invasion of Kalabas—Lord Egibi had given his commanders explicit instructions that they were to exploit any opportunity offered.

  Hal saw two dragons, neither black, and he and his flight attacked, drove them down into the bloody hands of the soldiery below.

  Kailas chanced flying south for almost an hour, and found the lead elements of the Second Army, half Deraine, half Sagene.

  They, too, had been successful in the breakthrough, and were marching steadily north-northeast, toward Aude and the River Comtal.

  They saw three dragons, killed two, and the third fled.

  At base that night, most of the fliers were bubbling, sure an attack that began this successfully couldn’t fail.

  Hal tried to hold back their enthusiasm, but felt a warmth of hope in spite of himself.

  The next few days they drove the Roche back again, and now, when Hal swooped low over the soldiers, he could hear singing, and see they were laden with loot the Roche had previously seized from the poor, vanished peasants of the area.

  Hal took Garadice and Gart, flew over the Roche lines, such as they were, and on, deeper into the rear. Then an idea struck, and he blew his trumpet, waved for a course change, to east-southeast.

  What he saw, or rather what he didn’t see, sent him back at top speed, his bewildered wingmates trailing, until he spotted the pennons of the Armies’ Combined Command.

  He landed, told Garadice to watch Storm, and went looking for Cantabri.

  “You’re sure?” Lord Bab said.

  “I’m positive,” Hal said.

  “Twice lucky,” Cantabri said. “I remember what you didn’t see on the day we invaded Kalabas.”

  “I hope the result is different,” Hal said.

  “It will if I have anything to do with it. Now for Lords Egibi and Desmoceras.”

  Bab’s eyes were a-gleam.

  “This, Hal, could win the war for us, in a week, or at most a month. Come on, man!”

  “There appeared to be no Roche formations to the south?” Egibi said, trying to hold back incredulity.

  “None, sir,” Hal said. “I saw scattered light cavalry, and they were in full flight.”

  “This is somewhat astonishing,” Lord Desmoceras, the Sagene commander of the Second Army said. He was a thin man, a bit shorter than average, but his face and body were seamed with the scars that proved him a fighting man to contend with.

  “I have full confidence in Lord Kailas,” Egibi said, but there was a slight question in his voice.

  “As do I,” Cantabri said, without even a question mark.

  “Thank you, sirs,” Hal said. “Lord Desmoceras, I’m an experienced flier. I flew very carefully, saw no camouflaged camps or formations.

  “The Roche have, from all I could see, been split in half. I’d guess some are fleeing toward Aude, the rest possibly to join up with other elements to our south.

  “I’m ready to take out flights to find out just where they are.”

  Egibi nodded, didn’t respond to Hal’s volunteering.

  “What do you think?” he asked Desmoceras.

  The Sagene pulled at his nose.

  “I think my Council of Barons would have my head for disobeying their orders, and turning away from Aude. Not to mention we have no spells ready, and it would take at least two days to change the army’s orders.”

  Lord Egibi made a wry face.

  “And here we’ve told our officers to take the initiative, not to be afraid to take chances.

  “I myself wonder what King Asir would think if I changed the attack. First, we’ll have a supply problem, turning away from the River Comtal, and—”

  “Live off what the Roche have abandoned,” Hal said, somewhat astonished at his effrontery.

  Lord Egibi turned to him, face reddening. Then he controlled himself.

  “Yes. Thank you, Lord Kailas,” he said, voice cold. “If you’ll wait beyond, to see if we have any further orders?”

  Hal forced calm, saluted, and left.

  An hour later, Cantabri came out, lips pursed, hand on his sword as if he wanted to draw and kill the first person he saw.

  Hal didn’t need to ask what the decision had been.

  “Continue the attack?” he said.

  Cantabri nodded, too angry to speak.

  Hal stormed back to his dragon, took off for his flight base, barely noticing or caring that his wingmates were flanking him.

  A drum kept pounding in his head—we could have won the war, we could have won the war, we could have won the war.

  The next day, the advance continued toward Aude.

  34

  Two days later, Hal still not over his rage, the first scouts reached the River Comtal, facing light opposition from the Roche. Following them were the pioneers, who considered the deep, unfordable river, then began denuding the local forests for bridging material.

  Then came the infantry, who looked across the river, and up at Aude’s great walls, winced, then settled down to wait.

  Logs were snaked to the river’s edge, and small lumber-yards put together, to begin planing and cutting the lumber for the bridges.

  That night, fires fli
ckered along the riverbank, and the cut lumber, green wood though it was, burst into flames. Aude’s magicians were at work.

  The next morning, Hal and his flight were told to lift a cadre of magicians to the knoll where Cantabri had first scouted the city.

  The magicians conferred, then ordered their acolytes to begin laying out tapes in mystical patterns, and chanting preparatory spells.

  Hal noticed Storm was making a low, pained noise, as if hurt. He examined the dragon carefully, saw no signs of harm, saw other dragons were also showing discomfort.

  Magic, he realized, something the monsters liked no better than the layman.

  He told the head magician of the dragons’ problems, said he’d take them off, circle the knoll from a distance, and return when summoned.

  Within minutes, he, too, felt uncomfortable, and knew a great spell was being sent against the sorcerers of Aude.

  Then, suddenly, the discomfort vanished, and he saw a tiny, robed dot below, waving to him.

  He brought the flight back, and took the magicians and their gear back to the rear area, just behind a ridgeline, where the high command had positioned itself.

  The pioneers went back to work, and this time, their piled logs remained intact.

  He heard, from a man who had a friend who’d been eavesdropping when a deserter was questioned that something horrible, invisible, had struck at the Roche wizards, killing at least a dozen or more.

  He wondered, properly suspicious of the army’s rumor machine, how much of that was true.

  Replacements trickled in—none of them fliers—and they were a-babble of the new small ships, river barges, tied up in Paestum, or still building in the ports of Deraine, while two bridges inched across the River Comtal, the walls of Aude looming above.

  If the Roche didn’t know of King Asir’s plan, Hal figured they’d gone blind and deaf.

  The bridges reached the far side, and ranks of infantrymen trotted across, forming into attack echelons.

  From the walls, catapults sent man-long arrows arcing down, and even a few crossbowmen, clearly inexperienced, chanced shots at this impossibly long range.

  Hal, soaring above the city, saw a gate yawn open on Aude’s landward side, and half a hundred knights debouch.

  He scribbled a note, sent Storm diving toward the Deraine infantry, tootling on his trumpet. Someone with rank got the note, and soldiers formed a wedge, ran to meet the cavalry.

  Hal pointed at the open gate, dove on it, sent crossbow bolts into the scattering of soldiers atop the wall.

  A Deraine light cavalry troop rode around their soldiers, into the Roche horsemen, as the infantry charged.

  Then there were Roche dragons coming in, and he had no time to watch the ground. Two dragons dove at him, and he pinned the first’s rider to his dragon with a bolt, pulled the charging handle back, forward, and shot the other rider in the stomach. He screamed, fell, and his dragon, unmanned, fled.

  Then his flight was around him, and it was a swirl of screeching monsters and shouting men. A wingtip brushed Hal’s chest, and he almost fell from Storm’s back. He fired a bolt after his attacker, had no idea if he hit or not.

  Sir Loren had a dragon on his tail, closing. The Roche rider wasn’t watching his own rear, and Hal came down on him, shot him in the back. Sir Loren waved thanks as Hal banked away.

  Hal looked around, realized he was very low over Aude. He flashed over the great roofed, turreted keep, big enough to land a dozen dragons on, near the main gate. Bowmen were shooting up at him. He gigged Storm, and the dragon shot away, low over the walls, over the river, and came back across Aude.

  The last of the Roche cavalry was being cut to pieces, and the Deraine riders were breaking free, galloping hard for the still-open gate.

  Hal thought he might be mumbling a prayer—if the cavalry made it inside, the battle could be a victory before it was even mounted.

  Heavy cavalry, moving at a ponderous trot, came up from the river and around the walls toward the gate, supporting the light riders.

  The air above the wall was a swoop of dragons, Hal’s flight, and another formation. There were only two Roche dragons aloft, and one of those folded a wing, and spun down to smash across the outer wall’s battlements. He looked for the second, but it had vanished.

  The Deraine light cavalry was inside the city’s outer walls, and there were spearmen running out, forming a wall before the inner gate. The Deraine horses reared, turned away—no horse will charge into a solid mass, romantic paintings aside, and Hal saw the outer gates slowly closing, brave Roche soldiers ignoring the cavalry at their back.

  Hal heard the gates slam closed from two hundred feet above, saw the last of the cavalry inside the wall shot down by bowmen on the walls on either side. The accidental chance at a quick victory was gone.

  Now, unless there was a miracle, the battle for Aude would be a long, bloody siege.

  The hut was a blurt of excitement as the fliers unwound from the air battle.

  “How many’d you get . . . sir?” Sir Nanpean called.

  Hal shook his head. As always, he didn’t think he was in the business of counting.

  “He got four, four, the dirty whore,” Farren Mariah chanted.

  Tregony’s face fell, and he turned away.

  “Guess,” Mynta Gart grinned, passing Hal a jack of ale, “who’s been holding forth on his three victories.”

  The beer, chilled by sorcery, meant more to Kailas than whether or not Sir Nanpean Tregony was happy.

  “I think we’ve got a problem, sir,” Serjeant Te said.

  “Of course we’ve got problems,” Hal said. “We’re sojers, ain’t we?”

  Te didn’t smile.

  “Very well,” Hal said. “We do have a problem. A serious one.”

  “Someone’s stealing supplies, sir.”

  Hal grimaced.

  “What sort?”

  “All sorts,” Te said. “The fliers’ club is missing brandy, the supply tent’s missing clothing, boots, jackets.

  “And I’m missing some maps.”

  Hal suddenly took things very seriously. The only people who might be interested in maps, outside the army, would be historians, collectors . . . and spies.

  Hal doubted there were many collectors hiding in the forests around Aude.

  “What sort of maps?”

  Te nodded—Hal was beginning to understand.

  “Marked ones, sir. Showing last week’s deployments, some of the area around Paestum.”

  “Which naturally, we’ve been squirreling away, rather than destroying, against orders.”

  Te held out his hands.

  “Tell me somebody who doesn’t keep files. More files than he should.”

  Hal nodded reluctantly, thought.

  “The clothing. Any particular size?”

  “The first thing I thought of, sir,” Te said. “No such luck. All sizes, which means the thief must be selling them.”

  “I’d haul everybody together,” Hal said, “and read them the liturgy about thieving, and how we’ll hang anybody we find stealing from the nearest dragon.

  “But not with those damned maps gone. That suggests something else. Any ideas on who might be the guilty one?”

  “Not a clue, sir,” Te said. “So I’ve got to suspect everyone and no one.”

  “So it’s up to us to play warder and investigate, then.”

  “Yessir,” Te said. “And I’d rather no one be tipped the wink that we’re alert. Maybe I can lay out and catch the bastard first.”

  “Maybe that’s a good idea,” Hal said. “And maybe, when I’ve got the time, I should do the same.

  “It’s pure hell when you don’t know who you can—and can’t—trust.”

  “It is that, sir.”

  Hal was summoned by Lord Egibi, informed the attack on the Comtal’s mouth had been successful, and Deraine and Sagene were turning the port town into an impregnable fortress.

  Now supply barges and small s
hips could sail or be warped upriver with supplies and reinforcements.

  “However,” Egibi said, “our scouts report the riverbanks are held by partisans—Roche irregulars. Our first convoy upriver was ambushed and forced back.

  “Take your dragons, Lord Kailas, and scout for ambushes, and drive back those guerrillas. You have royal permission to land and burn any villages you deem to be supporting the enemy.”

  “Nossir,” Hal said firmly. “I’ll not be doing that.”

  There was an audible gasp from some staff officers, while Lord Cantabri hid a grin.

  “And why are you disobeying orders?” Egibi said, in a voice that would have passed for summer thunder.

  “Because,” Hal said, “first, we’re in Roche now. Any villages supporting these guerrillas, who I’ll wager are no more than Roche soldiers who’ve lost their parent units, are no more than patriots.

  “Just as you—or King Asir—would expect our Deraine villagers to stand and be counted should we ever be invaded.”

  Egibi glowered at him, but Hal refused to look away.

  “I suppose,” Egibi said, “you’re right. Dammit, I know you are. Very well then. Go wage your damned moral war.”

  Hal took his entire flight down the River Comtal toward the sea. Taking off, he could see the pioneers, busy again, building siege engines.

  Then he concentrated on ambush sites, flying low, just above the water.

  He heard a whoop of glee, glanced back, saw Farren’s dragon lifting its head from the water, holding an enormous pike in its jaws.

  Hal noted several spots, saw horsemen gallop out of brush a few times, didn’t pursue them.

  After a two-hour flight, they saw boats in the river. Not trusting their own soldiery to hold fire, Hal draped a Deraine flag from Storm’s neck, circled until he was waved in.

  He landed on the bank, and one of the barges drew near.

  “See any Roche?” the officer in the bows said.

  “Probably,” Hal said. “We ran them off, but I’m sure they’ll scuttle right back. We’ll orbit your forward ships, and give the alarm if they’re still planning anything.”