There Will Be Dragons tcw-1

by John Ringo

  The trench was filled with bodies, most of them orcs but a few of the Blood Lords, and more of the archers, were down. Ed Stalker was lying in the blood-filled trench, a sword driven all the way through his body, but his own sword in the throat of the orc that had killed him. Bue Pedersen had a nasty gash on his sword arm that was dripping blood from a hastily applied bandage and at least three of the archers were never going to see Raven’s Mill again.

  “Toss the bodies of the enemy over the side and start taking the parapet down,” Edmund said. “Start moving the wounded up the hill. Bury our dead in the trench.”

  “Yes, sir,” Herzer answered tiredly. “What about stripping the bodies?” he continued, looking at the corpses and a few that were wounded. The orcs were being finished off as he asked. “There’s some good material here that the town could use.”

  “We can’t carry it, though,” Edmund pointed out. “I’d say leave it. McGibbon.”

  “My lord.”

  “Send half your archers up to the first retreat point,” Talbot said. “There should be a rider waiting there.”

  Edmund stood on the plateau as the Blood Lords and the remaining archers went to work. “How long, Herzer?” he asked, shielding his eyes against the westering sun.

  “Thirty minutes, Baron,” Herzer gasped, lifting one of the palisade poles out of the ground with a wedge.

  “Plenty of time,” Edmund muttered, looking down the hill. “Look at them milling around. Archers, drop that and see if you can get a few arrows to reach that far.”

  With the covering fire of the archers, which did indeed make it to where the enemy was attempting to reassemble, the triari quickly took down their defensive position and buried the bodies of their fallen in the good earth. If they were in there with the blood of their enemies, so much the better, but all of the enemy was left on the ground for their “friends” to deal with. Or not. There were still ravens aplenty in the Shenan valley, and they had begun to gather already.

  “Archers, move to the second defense point,” Edmund said. “When you reach it, Mac, get the rest moving up the hill. Blood Lords, up to the camp. Move it.”

  * * *

  Evening found them back in the palisades they had left the previous day. They had their first hot meal in a while and the bannocks and boiled salt pork had never tasted so good. The cavalry was gone before they got there but there were sufficient forces, between the archers and the Blood Lords, that they could go to minimal security and everyone could get a decent night’s rest.

  The fires of the enemy were twinkling in the valley and while they couldn’t see many of them moving around, as long as the fires were there they could know that they hadn’t moved.

  Herzer quickly fell asleep when he went off watch but his sleep was filled with dreams to such an extent that he kept waking up. Around him when he woke the camp was filled with mutters and groans as others apparently relived the battle. Finally, before dawn, he gave up trying to get any more rest, put on his armor and wandered over to the fire at the center of the encampment. The baron was up as well and handed him a mug of sassafras tea.

  “It’s a damned poor substitute for real tea,” Edmund growled, “but at least it’s hot.”

  Herzer sipped it and warmed his hands, looking at the palisade. “Any news?”

  “Not a sign. Which I think means they moved out in the middle of the night.”

  Herzer had taken a look at the valley before coming over and shook his head. “There are still fires.”

  “Sure, you leave a few people behind to keep them going and move the rest of your force out. It’s an old trick.”

  “But we won’t know where they’ve gone,” Herzer said, worried. “They could be halfway down the valley!”

  “So?” Edmund chuckled. “I don’t care how fast they’re moving. Now that you guys have gotten some rest, we can get ahead of them. We’re inside their maneuver zone. Whichever way they go, we can cut them off. If they head north, we head north and either get ahead of them or move down to the bridge to cut them off. If they try to head back around the mountain, we can cross the river ahead of them and do the same. We’re inside their arc.”

  “But how are we going to know which way to go?” Herzer asked then looked around. “The cavalry.”

  “I sent them out in two groups,” Edmund replied. “They didn’t get much sleep but I also sent the horses that the archers had been using. They can stay ahead of them and signal their intentions. They might have stayed in place, in which case they’ll try to assault up the valley. Do you think they can take this fort? After what we did to them yesterday with less defenses?”

  “No,” Herzer admitted.

  “Neither do I. We’ll know where they are as soon as the sun rises. And on that note, it’s about time to get everyone moving.”

  The camp was roused before dawn and by the time the sun was up everyone had had a hot breakfast and was ready to face the day. The camp materials were packed and when the sun finally shone enough light they could get a good look at the valley.

  As anticipated, the camp below was mostly empty. The news that it would be had gone around the camp so no one was perturbed by it. Edmund rode up to the summit to get a good look around. After about fifteen minutes he rode down to the camp, shaking his head.

  “Don’t bother breaking it down,” Edmund said. “We’ll probably make some sort of permanent structure up here in time. They’re heading back down the valley and around to one of the fords on the east river. Time to move out.”

  The force moved out with the archers in the lead and the Blood Lords behind. The archers made good time but the Blood Lords were, quietly, unenthused by the rate of march.

  “These guys need to work on marching more,” Cruz muttered. “We can go twice this fast. In heavier armor.”

  “Hush,” Deann chuckled. “I’d rather have them with us when we fight next, wouldn’t you?”

  “Silence in the ranks!” Gunny called.

  They could catch occasional glimpses of the enemy force, now much reduced, as it made its way north. They also caught occasional glimpses of the cavalry screening force, which would signal with flags from time to time. Despite the slow speed of the archers they were clearly gaining on the enemy and passed ahead by noon. But Herzer was worried about the speed that they would be able to make down the valley, not to mention crossing the river. At this time of year it wasn’t yet in spate, but it was a broad river and not to be crossed lightly. However, he had come to trust the baron and if Edmund said they could cut them off he was willing to believe it.

  At the end of the main mountain, where it split into two ridges with the interior valley between, they took the right fork, continuing to follow an old hiking trail along the ridge. Herzer was glad they only had a few mules, now almost stripped of provisions, and Edmund’s horses because the trail was very bad; with more horses they would have found it nearly impossible to negotiate. They followed it to the north, losing sight of the enemy force, which was attempting a crossing at some rapids, and continued into the afternoon until, just before dusk, they came upon a group of Raven’s Mill townies at the head of a trail down the mountain.

  “Hello, Herzer,” one of them called. The men from the town had axes and spades and had apparently been hard at work improving the trail.

  “Hello,” Herzer replied, as the group headed down the mountain. Whatever the condition of the trail before, it was practically a road now. Where it was particularly steep it had either been given switchbacks or steps of rock and trunks. The spaces on the steps had been well filled with tamped earth and they held up under the pounding of the hobnailed force as it hurried down the hill.

  “How long ago did you plan this, Baron Edmund?” Herzer asked as the baron came past, his horse delicately negotiating the steps.

  “From the beginning,” Edmund said. “I had Kane send them up yesterday to prepare this path and two others; I couldn’t be sure which way he would hop.”

  Herzer j
ust shook his head and wondered if he would ever get the knack of thinking that far ahead.

  At the base of the mountain they followed the trail to the river where a ferry had been installed. It was a simple raft connected to heavy ropes but it was more than sufficient to permit the force to cross. By the time they were on the far side of the river it was solidly dark. But after removing the ferry and sending two men to pole the raft down stream they pushed on down the river to the Bellevue grade where he had made his stand against the original scouting force.

  There, too, the men from the town had been hard at work. At that point the shoulder of the first ridge came down to a bend in the river and the only way across the shoulder was the cut of the old pike. Despite that fact, trees had been felled along the whole line from the river to the cliffs of the first ridge, forming an abatis, which had been reinforced with a pile of cross-logs to make a complicated breastwork. A ditch and parapet was under construction across the pike, and archer positions had been prepared on the east side of the pike, ranging up the shoulder of the ridge. With the Blood Lords in the parapet and along the west side and the archers above, able to fire down at anyone from their position to the river, the defenses were well nigh impregnable.

  Herzer could still tell that it was going to be a hard fight.

  A camp had been prepared on the far side of the defense and, after filing in through the small path that was the only way through the defenses, the group settled in and had a solid meal cooked by women from the town. There was a ration of wine for their supper and they had all they could eat, but best of all the baron gave them the night off; the militia could stand the watch for them.

  Herzer fell asleep to the sight of the baron poring over maps by the light of a torch and his sleep, this time, was untroubled by dreams.

  * * *

  When Herzer awoke it was past noon and he blinked light from the sun that was up over the ridge out of his eyes. A few of the Blood Lords were already moving around but others were still asleep, curled up in limp balls. He wandered over to where Edmund was conferring with Alyssa and nodded at the two of them.

  “They had a bad crossing,” Alyssa said. She added, “He lost most of his carts and some of the infantry got washed away. The few men-at-arms he has with him are mostly on foot as well and I think at least one of them must have been lost since I saw only five. By my count, he’s down to no more than three hundred. And they’re moving slow.”

  “Two hundred and seventy-three under arms,” Bast said, walking down the hill. “As of this morning when I lowered it from two hundred and seventy-seven. And now that they have flankers out, it’s really slowed them down. Hi lover boy.”

  “Hi Bast,” Herzer said with a grin and a surge of lust he hoped wasn’t obvious on his face.

  “I can tell you’re glad to see me,” the elf replied with a grin and a wink. “But there’s a battle to be fought today and I don’t do it with men in armor. It damned well pinches.”

  “So now we wait?” Herzer asked Talbot.

  “More or less,” Edmund replied. “But even with short of three hundred, he can swarm us if he hits the defenses in a wave.” He nodded at the group and grabbed his horse, mounting easily despite the armor, and rode out of the defenses through the narrow, twisting path. He rode back and forth, then came back, nodding in satisfaction.

  “Kane, I want a group of militia up here. Some archers and pikemen to man the defenses. McGibbon, Herzer, get your people down again. Let’s see if we can fool him twice.”

  “I’ll get some people to work on covered ways,” Kane added. “That way if he stands off at night, the defense force can get off the parapet without being observed or at least get fed in the line.”

  “Good idea,” Edmund said.

  “Gunny, you need to head back to town, Herzer and I can handle it here. I want you to see if you can stiffen up the militia.”

  “Like using buckshot to stiffen up spit,” Gunny muttered. “Permission to stay here, sir?”

  “Permission denied,” Edmund said with a grin. “With Kane here, I need you back there.”

  “Yes, sir,” the NCO said, stolidly.

  “Let’s get to it.”

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  Sheida met Ishtar in alternate reality and with a projection rather than an avatar; Ishtar’s summons had indicated that it was urgent. She hadn’t bothered to adjust the reality of the space that was created and it was a formless gray plain that stretched, apparently, into infinity. Since it had no real existence, there was no infinity for it to reach.

  “I have traced, as well as I can, all the members of the board of the terraforming group,” Ishtar said as Sheida appeared. “The only survivor that I have been able to track down is Dionys McCanoc. As you suggested, several of them died shortly after the Fall, and none of them from ‘accidents’; they had all been murdered.”

  “If you’re playing for keeps you don’t bother arranging ‘accidents,’ ” Sheida said. “And if he dies, all the power reverts?”

  “Until a quorum of the shareholders, or their heirs, can be contacted and a vote arranged,” Ishtar nodded.

  “And right now he’s letting Chansa control his proxy?” Sheida mused. “Why?”

  “Council members cannot have a membership on the board,” Ishtar said with a wry grin. “But they can ‘advise’ as to power use. Chansa, or whoever controls him, cannot have the direct ‘ownership’ of it. He has to use a proxy.”

  “As would we,” Sheida said. “Why isn’t he using the power directly?”

  “That I don’t know,” Ishtar admitted. “The only thing I can imagine is that he’s not aware he can. And why, if he has all this power, is he setting himself up as a bandit lord? He could own this war!”

  “Not knowing would be like McCanoc,” Sheida said. “He thinks he’s brilliant but what he is is cunning, and he tends to only look at superficials. He knew he could distribute the power but not that he can draw upon it now. There’s probably a very specific command he has to give to get it for his own use. And as to why he’s set himself up as a bandit chief, that’s what he wants to be. He’s the sort of personality that revels in direct control over people, in forcing the people around him to live in fear and intimidation. It’s his whole reason for being, to have people that he can see be afraid of him. He loves to destroy, not build. Having power that’s beyond that level isn’t the same for him. So probably the deal is that Chansa is letting him run around and be the evil conquering bastard he wants to be and ‘oh, by the way, why don’t you let me be your proxy for the terraforming system, otherwise Mother will be bothering you with updates all the time’ or something.”

  “Yeah,” Ishtar whispered. “But what do we do about it?”

  “I’m not sure,” Sheida admitted. “I need to find out where he is. The last I heard he was headed for… Oh, Shit!”

  “What?”

  “He was headed for Raven’s Mill!” Sheida gasped. “Oh Fisk!”

  “What’s so bad? I mean, he may conquer it but, Sheida, I know you have friends there but…”

  “Blow that,” Sheida said, her mind racing. “He hasn’t got a chance. He’s up against Edmund. Edmund is going to put his head on a pike. After Daneh cuts off his balls!”

  “I’m sure that Chansa gave him protection…”

  “I don’t care what Chansa did! He won’t defeat Edmund, I guarantee it! I have to go.” With that she vanished.

  * * *

  Daneh was tending to the last details of the preparations for the battle when Sheida appeared. Rachel and a few of the nurses had set up a forward aid station closer to the defenses but it had been decided to send the worst cases back to the town via horse carts and Daneh was determined to give them the best care possible. She was lifting her surgical tools from the vat of boiling water when Sheida appeared in the air over the cauldron.

  “Daneh, where’s Edmund?” her sister said abruptly. For once she didn’t appear to have even a projection of her lizard with
her.

  “Out fighting McCanoc,” Daneh said acerbically. “Without any help from you, I might add.”

  “He can’t kill him!” Sheida said. “That’s very important!”

  “What do you mean he can’t kill him?” Daneh asked angrily. “Do you know what he’s been doing? What he did to me?” she said, gesturing at her stomach.

  “Yes, I do,” she replied, tautly. “I don’t care. I’ll explain later. Where is Edmund?”

  “Up the road,” Daneh said. “At the Bellevue grade.”

  “Get up there as soon as you can,” Sheida said.

  “Sheida, I’m busy here!”

  “I don’t care!” Sheida yelled, coming to a decision. She reached out and touched her sister and both of them suddenly appeared in the camp behind the defenses. The one part of her mind that she always kept attuned to power levels saw the slight drop and how it affected all the defenses that were arrayed against the continuous power of the enemy side. One of the shields on a fusion plant flickered at the abrupt power drain, slight as it was, but it held.

  “Hello, Sheida,” Edmund said, looking up from a schematic of the defenses. “Nice to see you, Daneh,” he added with a nod.

  “You can’t kill McCanoc,” Sheida said.

  “Thank you for your input,” Edmund said calmly. “But you’ll forgive me if I pointedly ignore you.”

  “Listen to me!” the projection snarled. “It’s very important. We’ve figured out where Paul is getting all this extra power and it’s McCanoc.” She then explained the problem and shook her head. “If we can capture him, we can get him to change his proxy. That gives us the power. We’re holding them despite the power. They’re not fighting smart. If we get it we can probably end this damned war!”

  At that Edmund set down the sketch and rubbed his chin. “That, I’ll admit, is a telling argument. But how are you going to get him to change his proxy? Or, for that matter, how are you going to do anything with him? At the first bit of danger Chansa will yank him out. I wonder that he lets him run around at all if he’s that important.”