The Last Battle

by Chris Bunch

  Hal wondered if she'd still be so friendly if he told her he'd done his best, through the war years, to kill Yasin at every chance he got.

  Hal decided, feeling very comfortable, he'd rather not test those particular waters.

  He was very full.

  Too full, he thought uncomfortably.

  He yawned.

  "I am boring you," Brythnoth said, sounding as if she was about to cry.

  "No, no," Hal said. "I just need some air."

  "Perhaps you'd let me show you our square?"

  That sounded like a good idea, Hal said. It also sounded, very vaguely, like a way of getting in trouble.

  But he allowed Brythnoth to take his arm, and they left the others still eating, although Mariah gave him a surreptitious thumbs up.

  Hal wondered what that was supposed to mean.

  The square was quiet, deserted, in the summer dark.

  Thank gods the claque had disappeared.

  Fireflies flitted here and there, their glow reflected in a winding pool.

  It felt quite right for him to put his arm around the girl as they walked.

  Just as it felt right, when they stopped to watch a pair of ducks landing in the pond, for him to slip his arms around her waist from the rear.

  He felt the warm curve of her buttocks, and his body reacted.

  Somehow his hands slid up, cupped her breasts.

  She turned in his embrace, and they kissed.

  Hal had kissed a few other women since he'd met Khiri. But nothing more than a single, polite kiss before he stammered about his marriage vows.

  He had been unbearably faithful.

  And what had it gotten him in return, except, most likely, some women with hurt feelings?

  So he kissed Brythnoth again, her tongue flickering in and out of his mouth.

  He shouldn't be doing this, he thought.

  Why not?

  It wasn't like he was married anymore.

  He woke just at dawn.

  His arm was asleep, Brythnoth's head pillowed on it.

  He slid out of the covers, walked across the room, took a scrub from his saddlebag, and rubbed at his teeth.

  He rinsed his mouth, went back to bed.

  Brythnoth was half-covered with only a sheet.

  Hal thought of the night before, expecting to feel guilt, indigestion, a hangover.

  He felt none of these.

  In fact, he felt perfectly damned wonderful.

  He considered the sleeping Brythnoth.

  She was, indeed, naturally white-blond.

  Thinking of that, he also thought it might be a good idea to kiss her.

  She sort of woke, rolled on her back, kissed him back.

  As he slid over her, he told his damned ascetic mind to remember what had happened, and stop being so gods-damned self-righteous all the time.

  They took off a few hours later.

  As Storm climbed, Hal looked back, beyond the town square, at the inn.

  The dot that was Brythnoth stood outside, waving frantically.

  He wondered if he'd ever see her again, decided it didn't matter, not for her, not for him.

  They stopped twice at farmhouses, and, as Yasin had predicted, were the glory of the day.

  On the fourth day, they flew over the Yasin grounds. They sprawled for miles, and mostly grew wheat, and table grapes, with the rest of the land given over to self-support.

  "It sort of just grew," Yasin had explained, "over generations. Our real land is to the north, almost to the border, and it's said the only thing that can be raised there is sons to grow to be warriors.

  "That's very noble, but my great-grandfather also liked to have a full belly, and so he started buying lands down here in the south.

  "Little by little, we spent more and more time on these lands, instead of freezing our balls off, making manly poses as we did, up around the border.

  "That land had been Roche for only a few generations, and there still were natives who felt they'd been robbed.

  "Perhaps they had," he continued. "But we always wondered who they'd stolen the land from in the first place."

  The war had cost the Yasin clan dearly.

  Bayle's father had died in a duel, "defending Queen Norcia's honor."

  Farren had made a wry face, and said, later, to Hal, "So the old man defends the honor, and then that duke, Yasin's brother, proceeds to take it as often as he can get away with."

  That brother, Garcao, had been head of the Household Regiments, and rumored to be Norcia's lover. He had then led the group of barons that overthrew Norcia, blaming her for the way the war was going against Roche.

  Garcao had died either in the final battle for Carcaor, the capital, or during the interregnum that followed.

  Yasin was the only heir.

  "Which means, of course," he'd said, "Mother wants me to marry—or, at any rate, breed—as soon as possible, and give up this damned dragon flying."

  Hal had noted that Mother was in capital letters.

  He also noted, later, that Yasin never talked about his late brother. He couldn't decide whether Garcao and Bayle had been very close, or not at all.

  In any event, Hal, an only child who, as a boy, had often yearned for a brother, thought it very odd.

  They landed outside the main house, which was of dark brickwork. The thick walls had been built to withstand a siege, and there were fighting positions in the walls and along the roof.

  Low towers dotted the land here and there, to keep off raiders or a full-scale attack.

  "My kin, back when we were kids, playing war, would've peed green for something like that," Mariah said. "Instead, we had to make barricades from crates, and use greengrocers' pushcarts for our castles.

  "There's no justice in the world."

  "What," Cabet asked in astonishment, "ever made you think there was?"

  "A man can dream, scheme, can't he?"

  Bayle Yasin's mother was, indeed, fearsome. It could well have been her idea to refer to herself in capital letters. She was tall, rigid in her posture, and her gray hair was drawn back in a bun. It was very hard for Hal to imagine her enjoying the marital bed, except as a rather messy way to begin her dynasty.

  She actually unbent a little to smile at Farren Mariah, of which he said, later, "Made my damned blood turn to icebergs, thinking she might be crawly jolly into my bedroom. Next time I need to think of somewhat to keep from coming, I'll be sure to let her creep into my mind."

  "And lose that soggy erection you've been able to handwork up?" Cabet asked.

  "You're forgetting the war too fast," Mariah said. "Keep to the rigid dignity of a flight commander… and in return, I'll not cast a wee spell that'll send the good Lady Yasin into your bed."

  They were feasted and given their own cottages around the grounds.

  Hal busied himself writing a very long letter to Advocate Jabish Attecoti.

  He finished, sealed it, found the Yasins' amanuensis, and gave him money to have it sent, via the fastest courier, to Deraine.

  Then there was nothing to do but wait.

  Until he had word from Attecoti, and found out how much trouble he was in back in Deraine, there was no particular point in planning anything.

  There were brick barracks on the estate, and workers trickled in.

  It was almost the season for harvesting the wheat, and, before that, bringing in the grapes. Some went on wooden trays to dry into raisins, but the better reds would be crushed and put in casks, mostly for trading, a little for the estate itself.

  Some of the workers came from small local farms, but a lot of them arrived travel-battered, having made the long trek south from the northern lands.

  Some, Yasin said, wanted to stay on here, and give up their homes in the north.

  Hal, going past the workers' barracks one evening with Yasin, paused, and heard one worker talking.

  He, and the rest of his village, had been clearing land for a new settlement. It had almost been a f
estival, living in tents, with the women and children preparing the meals, while the men cut and burnt the land.

  Then the barbarians had struck them.

  The worker said he'd hidden in a pile of brush, and they'd overlooked him.

  The men had been killed, the children and young women taken off for slaves, and the other women… The storyteller hesitated, then said that they'd been taken in great cheering orgies by the barbarians.

  There'd been half a dozen men who'd lived, all by hiding.

  Twice that number of women survived, although three of them "kilt theyselves, outa the shame."

  Hal had started to walk on, then noticed the look on Yasin's face.

  There was a gleam, as if he'd just heard the call to arms.

  That night, Yasin didn't join the other fliers after dinner, but was busy in one of the libraries, writing letters.

  Three days later, he left for Carcaor.

  A courier brought Hal a letter from Attecoti.

  Ironically, it had been brought to Roche's capital, Carcaor, by a commercial dragon rider, and from there by horse.

  I'm sending this by the most rapid method I know of, since I can well understand your desire to be kept current on the events of the day.

  First, the matter of your divorce—it is proceeding apace, and, thus far, Lady Carstares and her advocate have presented us with no surprises, or demands that might be deemed outrageous. As per your wishes, I am attempting to keep the entire matter sub rosa, so far with a marked success, although the tale-tellers have been importuning me for details on your marital dissolution.

  I would estimate that the divorcement will be final by the end ofthisyear.

  On other matters:

  First is the good news. I do not know, nor do I wish to know, the details of your adventure into Sagene. But the ship you purchased, the Galgorm Adventurer, has safely returned, with its entire crew, to beraine.

  I was told, and asked for no details, that the spell proved to be effective. There are some things an advocate should never inquire too fully into.

  However, the Sagene ambassador has formally complained to the Royal Court about what he claims to be a wholly illegal act, in that you and some of your friends liberated a criminal condemned to death, and he wishes all of you to be arrested and returned to Saaene for trial.

  This matter I have been unable to keep from the tale-tellers and, frankly, it's become quite the sensation. I have repeatedly pled ignorance of the entire matter.

  However, as I said, the reported involvement of the bragonmaster in a rather scandalous affair has stayed in the broadsheets, if for no other reason than that there isn't a scandal quite as savory at present.

  I have quietly inquired at Court, and been advised that our Royal Highness is not pleased at all. However, it seems that, if there are no further outrages, as he has termed them, the matter will be allowed to die, and it shall not prove necessary to make a response to Sagene.

  Unfortunately, it will take some months for that to happen.

  My suggestion, based on what I was told, is that you should, and I quote directly from a friend close to King Asir, "remain invisible" at least until the end of the year.

  I am most sorry, Lord Kailas, since I assume you wish to return to your lands as soon as possible. But I would suggest the advice should be followed, unless your present situation is completely intolerable, if you must return home, you should be advised of the likelihood of being summoned before the king to answer in this matter, which I cannot recommend against too strongly.

  I have taken the liberty of sending a letter of credit to a merchant banker in Carcaor, authorizing him to issue you any

  specie you. may need while in Roche, the sum to be paid by me, from the profits of your estate.

  Please stay in touch, and I shall do the same as circumstances develop.

  With best wishes, Jabish Attecoti, Kniaht

  Hal put the letter down thoughtfully. So he was stranded here in Roche for the time being.

  He shrugged.

  If that was the price he had to pay, so be it.

  At least Bodrugan and the men and women of the Galgorm Adventurer were safe.

  And at least he could now think about being able to stop living off the kindness of strangers.

  He guessed that Mariah and the others could return home to Deraine if they wished.

  He would be the only expatriate.

  And what of that? He couldn't think of anywhere, in Deraine, in Sagene, in Roche, that he regarded as home.

  Hal guessed he'd consult that banker in Carcaor for help in finding a place to live.

  He'd already, wryly, composed an announcement:

  WANTED

  By fairly reputable nobleman, if currently somewhat of a fugitive, a furnished apartment or town house. Excellent credit and credentials. Must have room for one companion: A dragon.

  Reply confidentially.

  Yasin came back from Carcaor, beaming, as if someone had promised him the moon.

  He asked Hal for a moment of his time.

  "Lord Kailas," he began, most formally, "I would like to extend an invitation to you, that would involve risk, adventure, and a great deal of flying."

  Hal's eyebrows perked.

  "After hearing of the depredations the barbarians are making against our northern frontiers, I have spent some time with some friends, and with some of the barons who have holdings in the north.

  "I proposed to them, and my plan was quickly approved, that I might be able to do some good in holding back these hordes from the sacred lands of Roche.

  "In short, I am going to put together a dragon squadron.

  "My idea met with quick approval, since, unknown to me before I met with my friends, several people in the capital had already proposed putting together a military incursion against these savages. As our peace treaty with Deraine forbids increasing the military beyond the paltry garrison units that already exist, this would be paid for and organized by civilians, although run on the strictest rules.

  "We will fly north, base ourselves in the city of Trenganu, and provide this armed force with both scouting and fighting potential.

  "Since you seem… meaning no offense, and considering how much my family and I owe you… at, well, a loose end, would you, and any of your friends who feel the same, care to join my enterprise?

  "I'll add that, although I'll be commander, you can have my written guarantee that I shall never order or require you or any of your friends to do anything dishonorable."

  Hal was jolted out of his own immediate concerns.

  "I think," he said, "I could use a brandy to chew on while I mull your offer over."

  Yasin hurried Hal to a library, found a decanter of very old brandy, and poured for them both.

  Hal took two snifters while he thought, sipping them carefully.

  Then he nodded.

  "Why not?" he said. "Why the hell not?"

  7

  Hal told his men what he was going to do, said they were free to go, having more than fulfilled their agreement to break Yasin out, and added that he'd give them enough gold to get back to Deraine.

  He told them he didn't think the law was after them, in fact most likely didn't even know who they were, but he thought it might be wise to stay out of Sagene for the immediate future.

  "I bargained for an adventure," Farren Mariah said. "Plus mayhap a little madness. And chasing wild men about the great northern tundra sounds like both.

  "I'll stick with you, Dragonmaster.

  "'Sides, you'll need somebody to cover your wrinkly ass."

  The other two made the same choice, although it took until the next day, and Hal thought Calt Beoyard seemed a little hesitant.

  But when Hal took him aside, he said he'd made his mind up, and sounded much firmer about his decision.

  Yasin was delighted to have them, and said that if Hal knew any other Derainians who might be interested, he'd be proud to add them to the company as well.


  Hal thought about writing some letters, but, since he still hadn't heard from Manus, the inquiry agent, he decided not.

  He was dimly aware that something was niggling at him, keeping him from recruiting any of his ex-fliers, although he didn't think it was the idea of operating with the Roche.

  Kailas set the matter aside.

  He had more than enough to do, getting ready for another war.

  The first step was moving to Carcaor, which Hal looked forward to. Yasin's estate might be luxurious, and his mother assured them they'd always have a home, but it was a bit too far out of the world.

  Besides, Hal had to admit to himself that Yasin's mother made him almost as nervous as she did Mariah.

  Summer was drawing to an end, and there was a gray drizzle coming down as they overflew Carcaor.

  The great Roche capital was a near-total ruin. Here and there were the enormous craters caused by Kailas's and other dragon squadron leaders' sorcerous casting of pebbles that grew into boulders.

  Large parts of the city were blackened, fired by either the dragon raids, the final battle, or the crowds rioting in the madness of defeat and despair.

  Hal noticed the other fliers were looking at him, couldn't decipher their expressions, looked away.

  Even though the remnants of Roche's army were not involved with Yasin, still he'd managed to get permission to use their dragon barracks and handlers.

  The terms of the surrender forbade the army to have more than two scouting squadrons of dragons, both deployed on the southern border, and a tiny fliers' school, so there was more than room enough in the half-ruined stables for Storm and the other three dragons.

  That done, they set out to look for quarters.

  It didn't take long, with Yasin's reputation as a hero.

  One of Carcaor's main hotels, the huge Muab, although missing one wing, offered Yasin an entire floor for gratis.

  They moved in that afternoon, each man getting a somewhat palatial suite.

  The main restaurant maintained its grandeur, even though the city's water system was irregular, and sometimes ran brown.

  But that certainly didn't bother any of the fliers, used as they were to privation.

  The Roche loved heavy meals, and so it was at the Muab. That night, dinner was a river fish course, a wild boar in some sort of sauce, and a many-layered cake. Side dishes included various noodles and peppery sauces.