Draconian Measures

by Don Perrin

  “But the commander has a new plan,” said Fulkth.

  “Of course, the commander has a plan,” Slith returned.

  “And he’ll get us out of this,” Fulkth said.

  Slith didn’t respond to that. Lifting his wings, he caught a breeze and used it to carry him across the grass.

  “A thousand goblins!” Shanra repeated softly, horrified. “And maybe that many hobgoblins.”

  All her brief life, they had been running from goblins, or so it seemed to Shanra. She was terrified of them, especially because the exasperated males, in an attempt to control twenty, playful female children, had often used the threat of goblins to scare their young charges into behaving. “Don’t wander off into the woods, little girl. The gobbos’ll get you for sure!” “What are you doing up this time of night? You want the gobbos to get you?”

  She’d actually seen a goblin once, close enough to smell its hairy, yellow flesh and see its gobbling mouth with its rotted, yellow teeth. Goblins had raided their camp one night when the females were about six months old. She and Hanra had been on their way to the latrine when the goblins had come crashing out of the woods. Slith himself had rescued the two females, grabbing them up—one under each arm—and dashing away with them while the male draconians rushed to the attack. Shanra still had nightmares about goblins and now there were a thousand heading this way.

  She drew in a choked breath. At the odd sound, Fulkth glanced around, saw her. Fulkth squinted, eyes narrowing as if trying to place this draconian. Shanra, remembering Fonrar’s training, looked as confident on the outside as was possible with her insides quaking.

  “Yes, soldier? What do you want?” Fulkth demanded. “Make it quick.”

  “Waiting for orders, sir,” Shanra said, giving a salute. She’d practiced for weeks to achieve just the right snap to her wrist. “What’s to be done with the females?”

  “They’re to accompany the supply wagons to the north end of the valley,” Fulkth replied, pointing. “Commander Kang wants them on the opposite side of that ridgeline. The commander’s retreating across the valley to make our stand there. Make sure the females keep together. Don’t let any of them wander off. And don’t alarm them. Tell them it’s a drill.”

  “Yes, sir,” Shanra said, saluting again.

  Someone began shouting for the squadron leader. Fulkth turned away and Shanra thankfully escaped back into the confusion.

  * * * * *

  “What’s that fellow’s name? Fulkth asked one of his soldiers.

  “What fellow?” The draconian glanced around.

  Fulkth turned, looked, but couldn’t find him. “I keep seeing this sivak trooper around camp and I can never think of his name.”

  “We’ve only been together thirty-eight years,” said the soldier wryly. “You’d think you’d know our names, by now.”

  “You’d think so,” Fulkth said to himself. He was about to leave when he was stopped by a voice. “Sir, what are your orders regarding the females?”

  Fulkth whirled, scowling. “You have my orders, soldier! How many times do I have to give them?”

  “Sir?” Cresel stared at him.

  “Subcommander Fulkth!” shouted another soldier. “Support Squadron is in position! Whenever you’re ready, sir!”

  “Fine! I’ll be right there! Look, Cresel, I gave the orders regarding the females to the sivak!” Fulkth said impatiently.

  “Sivak?” Cresel repeated, puzzled. “Which one, sir?”

  “You know,” Fulkth cried, dashing off to take his place in the front of his squadron, prepare to lead them into battle. “What’s-his-name.”

  Support Squadron, giving a defiant shout, marched out of the valley to provide covering fire for their retreating comrades. Cresel, baffled, returned to his charges.

  * * * * *

  Whoever that unknown goblin commander was, Kang hoped that the draconians’ sudden retreat had caught the bastard off guard. He and his men had stumbled into an ambush, but they hadn’t stayed around long enough to let the net settle over them. Faced with a reversal of fortune, Kang had halted his advance, pulled out of the woods at a run, heading back across the plains toward the valley where he had left Fulkth’s Support Squadron. Always mindful that even the best plan rarely survives contact with the enemy, Kang had deliberately held Support Squadron out of the fight to use as a reserve unit for just such a dire occasion.

  Once out of range of goblin arrows, with no signs of pursuit, the draconian regiment turned and sprinted across the plains. Having been on short rations for weeks, the draconians couldn’t keep up the demanding pace for long, and, at Kang’s order, they slowed to a fast jog, their pounding feet keeping the cadence. They saved their breath for breathing. They had cleared the first of several small hills when they heard braying horns, coming from the woods they had just left. The goblins were advancing.

  Kang looked ahead to the small valley where Fulkth had chosen to conceal his command. Perhaps only fifteen minutes had passed since Kang had sent Slith off with Fulkth’s orders, but already the sixty draconians were in ranks, twenty with longbows.

  “Well done, Slith!” Kang said, when his second returned.

  Slith glanced back at the advancing goblins. “There sure are a lot of ’em.”

  “There sure are,” Kang agreed.

  “Orders, sir?”

  Kang pointed. “Move your command to the north side of the valley and hold there. You’re fighting a delaying action, nothing more. When you’re hard pressed, pull back. By that time we’ll be in position to cover you.”

  “Do you know where we’re going, sir?” Slith asked. “Is there some defensible position ahead—a cave or something where we can hole up?”

  “I wish I could tell you, Slith,” Kang said and hoped he didn’t sound as defeated as he felt. He shook his head. “I thought we were advancing, so I sent the scouts to search out the terrain ahead of us. Not behind.”

  “Something’ll turn up, sir. It always has,” said Slith and, giving his commander a reassuring grin, the sivak dashed off, shouting orders to his command.

  “It always has,” Kang said glumly to himself. “But, by the law of averages, there’s bound to be a time it doesn’t.”

  Support Squadron marched past, the draconian warriors fresh, rested, and ready for battle. Kang and his men had a breathing space. Support Squadron would hit the goblins hard, hopefully hard enough to drive them back in disorder. He called a halt to let his men rest.

  Throughout his military career, Kang had been an engineer. Engineers fought when they had to, but they were meant to support the infantry. The infantry fought and the engineers provided fighting support. That’s how it was supposed to work. Having someone else do the majority of the fighting was a luxury that Kang had not known for many, many years, however.

  Wearily, he lifted his head, looked to the objective. A mile beyond them the ridgeline rose to form a barrier to the north. Kang summoned his standard barrier and pointed out the feature to Granak.

  “We’ll make our defense at the base of the ridge. When the enemy hits us, we’ll fall back, moving steadily uphill. We’ll have the advantage of height. We’ll be able to fire down on top of them, while they’ll be forced to fight an up-hill battle. Granak, take two men and go to the top of the ridge. That will be our objective. Plant your standard at the top, and light a fire with lots of smoke. Fulkth and Slith will use that to guide them when they pull back.”

  Granak nodded, saluted and sprinted ahead. Kang sent Harvah’k and another of his bodyguards with him.

  Kang looked over his troops. The draconians were exhausted. They stood in ranks, leaning on their spears, panting, their tongues lolling. Between the two squadrons, they had lost eighteen draconians either dead or missing. Twenty-two more were wounded, but they could still fight. They all looked at him, wondering what he would do. Kang thought he might say a few reassuring words, then decided against it. The men knew the situation was bad, the worst they’d ever fa
ced. He’d never lied to them before and he didn’t intend to start now. He looked back, anxiously, at the ridgeline.

  Fifteen minutes passed with no sign of movement, then he saw the four supply wagons from Support Squadron lumbering across the glade a half-mile away from him. Behind them came the group of twenty female draconians, marching in parade step as he had taught them. Watching, he realized the oxen would have trouble dragging the wagons up the steep incline.

  “Gloth, send a troop to help them out. I want the wagons and the females moved to the top of that ridge.”

  Gloth nodded and saluted. He motioned for Celdak, one of his junior officers, to take his command. The bozak took his twenty draconians and headed off to aid the wagons.

  A loud explosion echoed across the glade, followed closely by another. Kang looked to the north end of the valley to see two pillars of black smoke rising into the air.

  Yethik grinned. “Slith’s using some of his keg bombs on the gobbos. That’ll slow them down.”

  “Slow ’em down,” Kang said dispiritedly. “That’s about all it will do.”

  Yethik looked at his commander in concern. “Sir, are you all right?”

  Kang shook his head, turned away. He couldn’t let the men see him this way—despairing, defeated. He had to be the strong leader they could rely on. Rely on to do what? Die nobly? He was helpless to do anything else. He couldn’t even pray to his god. Takhisis had forsaken him, forsaken the whole of Ansalon. But before she had departed, she had given the draconians a great gift. She had given them the females, the future of their race. She had entrusted Kang with this precious gift, and all he had to do with it was keep the female draconians alive.

  Kang knew as well as if he’d been flying on the back of a dragon and could see the whole terrain spread out beneath him that the scouts would find no defensible position. They would fight and fall back, fight and fall back, and keep fighting and keep falling back until there was no place left to fall back to and there was no one left alive to fight.

  Kang heard shouts and yells and a great clash of steel against steel. Support Squadron had hit the goblin’s front lines like a battering ram. With Slith harrying their ranks from the north, flanking them, and Fulkth bashing heads in the front, the goblin charge was halted. But the cessation was only momentary. Wave after yellow wave of the creatures pounded against the wall of draconian soldiers, like a stinking, obnoxious sea. Support Squadron’s advance ground to a halt.

  Kang looked back over his shoulder. A bonfire blazed. Smoke rose from the top of the ridge. The draconian standard fluttered bravely in the wind. The wagons were crawling up the ridge, draconian soldiers pushing and shoving them from behind to give the thin and half-starved oxen what help they could.

  A couple of the females hastened forward to help with the wagons. Kang watched in concern. A wheel might slip. One of the heavy wagons might roll back on them. He was relieved to see Gloth come racing up, order the females back. This was work for grown-ups, not children. One of the females appeared to argue. Fonrar, he bet. It had to be her. She was the troublemaker, the rebel. And, he had to admit, she was his favorite. Gloth would stand up to her, though. He had the fear of Kang’s wrath in his heart if he didn’t.

  Fonrar marched back reluctantly to rejoin the females. Kang could tell by the set of her shoulders that she was furious and the sight raised his spirits. He didn’t know why. Fonrar was certain to try some other wild and crazy scheme, just to get even. He loved her for it. He loved them all. They were his charges and, by the gods that were no more, he would find a way to save them.

  Grabbing hold of the feeling, he locked it in his heart.

  “You are what keep this regiment together,” he said, berating himself. “You must always remember that. Keep the soldiers alive, and they will do the same for you.”

  The sun was disappearing behind the tall peaks of the Khur Mountains. The shadows of the mountains slid over the valley, bringing an early nightfall. Another explosion echoed across the foothills. Both Fulkth’s and Slith’s squadrons were in orderly retreat, marching back to the base of the ridgeline.

  Kang turned to his men.

  “This is it. We’re going to fight our way to the top of this ridge, and if there are any of those slimy gobbos left by the time we get there, we’ll charge them and clear them from the face of Ansalon. Are you with me?”

  The men cheered. They were hungry, wounded, exhausted. The odds were against them, they were outnumbered five to one. They had no cover, no place to hide, no place to defend. But Kang led them and, so long as he had confidence in himself, they had confidence in Kang.

  “Drill, my ass!” Fonrar muttered, fuming. She stood on the top of the ridgeline, gazing down into the valley below. The draconian squadrons had met at the base of the ridge and were fighting a pitched battle with the goblins. “Does Commander Kang think we’re stupid?”

  Fonrar would have never spoken of the adored and revered commander in disparaging terms to anyone other than the females. Certainly to none of the males. But Thesik was Fonrar’s best friend, and, as such, Thesik shared Fonrar’s thoughts, hopes, dreams, and frustrations.

  “No, he thinks we’re still children,” Thesik said. “That we have to be babied and protected. You can’t blame him, really, I suppose.”

  “I can,” said Fonrar. “I’m tired of having to sneak around to find out the truth about what’s going on. I’m tired of having to steal bits and pieces of armor, of being ordered not to handle swords because we might cut ourselves! I—”

  She paused, her tongue clicking against the roof of her mouth. Thesik caught hold of her friend’s arm, squeezed it tight.

  “Fon, do you see! The goblins are retreating!”

  “That’s what it looks like,” said Fonrar, skeptical. “I wonder why? Maybe it’s a feint.”

  “No, no!” Thesik was hopping from foot to foot in excitement. “Look, there they go. Run! You slimy bastards! Run!” she shouted, forgetting herself.

  “Hush!” Fonrar warned, then groaned. “Now you’ve done it!”

  Hearing Thesik shout, Gloth looked around. His eyes widened. Alarmed, he came dashing over.

  “What are you two doing here in arrow range!” he scolded. “Standing in the firelight, no less!”

  “We were not! We have more sense than that!” Fonrar retorted indignantly, but Gloth wasn’t listening.

  “Get back to the other side of the ridge.” He waved his arms, driving them like sheep. “Get back! Hustle! Now, before the commander sees you! He’d have my hide! Cresel!” he bellowed down at the draconian guard. “Keep these females on this side of the ridge!”

  “Sorry, sir,” Cresel said, climbing up to retrieve the lost members of his flock. “It won’t happen again.”

  “See that it doesn’t,” Gloth growled, glowering. “You’re on report, draco. I’ll be speaking to the commander about this.”

  Cresel marched Fonrar and Thesik down the opposite side of the ridge from where the battle was taking place. The females had not been allowed to pitch tents, since the army might be on the move at any moment. But they had been permitted to spread blankets on the rocky ground.

  The female draconians stood huddled together in a group, not out of fear, but—Fonrar recognized—because they were deep in discussion. Eighteen pairs of bright eyes turned her direction, and she knew immediately that something was up. Two of the baaz began making oblique hand gestures, motioning for her to hurry.

  Thesik hadn’t noticed. She was talking to Cresel.

  “I’m sorry we got you into trouble with the commander,” Thesik was saying.

  She had a soft spot for Cresel. All the females did. He’d been their guard ever since they were little and, unlike some of the other males, he was always extremely patient with them. They all remembered him allowing them to clamber up his back and ride on his broad shoulders, tweak his wings, play jump-over with his tail. Their esteem for him had grown when Thesik had overheard him say once that he felt
more like their prison guard than their bodyguard. Now he looked dejected and cast down. Fonrar assumed his depression was due to the fact that he was going on report.

  “I’ll tell the commander it was our fault,” Fonrar offered. “That you told us to stay but we disobeyed.”

  “It’s all right,” Cresel said with a smile that he was obviously having to work to produce. He glanced back up the ridge. “To tell you the truth, Fon, I wouldn’t mind going on report. Not a bit. I’d welcome digging crap holes. I’d dig them for a year and never complain once. Do you understand?” He shifted his gaze, looked at them meaningfully.

  “Yes,” said Thesik quietly. “I understand.”

  Cresel took up his position between them and the ridge line. Fonrar and Thesik returned to their waiting, impatient sisters and cousins.

  “Well, I don’t understand!” Fonrar whispered. “Is Cresel saying he likes digging latrines?”

  “No,” said Thesik, “he means he wouldn’t mind digging them because at least he’d be alive. You know Cresel. He’s never lied to us. He’s telling us the situation is bad, Fon. Very bad.”

  “But we saw the goblins retreat!” Fonrar protested.

  “I know.” Thesik said, sighing. “I don’t get it.”

  “We may have to send Shanra off on another factfinding mission,” Fonrar said.

  “Hanra,” Thesik corrected. “It’s her turn.”

  “Right,” said Fonrar wearily. “I’d forgotten. Yes, troops,” she said on reaching the knot of females. “What’s up?”

  “We saw flashes of light,” reported Riel, the leader of the baaz females, the largest group among them. She pointed a clawed finger out into a boulder-strewn canyon that separated the ridge from the foothills. “Down there. Among all those rocks.”

  “What kind of light?” Fonrar asked. “Wizard-light? Torchlight? What?”

  “Sunlight off steel,” said a second baaz immediately. “You can’t see it now,” she added, noting Fonrar’s intent gaze staring that direction. “When the shadows fell across the canyon, we couldn’t see the light flashing anymore.”