by Don Perrin
General Maranta explained his plans quickly and concisely.
The walls would be manned by the Twelfth Infantry Regiment. They were the archer specialists, and could use their longbows to harass the goblin army as they formed up for the assault. Five of the six other regiments of infantry, and the two support regiments would all remain inside the walls, as would Kang’s engineer regiment.
The Third Infantry would be held ready to launch a surprise attack outside the walls. They were equipped as heavy infantry with orders to hit the enemy flank during the battle, after the fight was joined.
Belkrad’s Reconnaissance Squadron would send out small patrols to spy on enemy formations and report back. If they had the opportunity, they would try to hit the enemy’s command post or supply wagons, but that was deemed a long shot.
Two of the other five regiments would be stationed at the base of the walls to mount a defense when the enemy drew closer. These draconians were expert at short-range shooting with bows and slings, and hand-to-hand fighting when the walls were threatened. Each regiment had a ballista supplied and crewed by the Third Artillery Regiment, which they would use against enemy siege engines.
The Ninth Infantry, along with the Fourth would be formed up in ranks, heavily armored, and posted near the front gate. When the goblins made a final rush against the gate, the draconians would fling open the gates and charge into the enemy. General Maranta’s plan was to overwhelm the enemy with the size of the force and their tenacity. He had chosen well. These two regiments both had long lists of battle honors, and both knew how to operate in the heavy infantry role. Vertax, the commander of the Ninth Infantry, wagered a very handsome broadsword that he would cut off and bring back the heads of two goblin commanders. The other officers immediately took him up on the deal.
Kang’s engineers, along with the remaining Tenth Infantry, would form the “Fire Brigade.” It would be their task to move in to fill any gap, or stem any incursions into the fort. Also, as the name implied, they would be responsible for keeping fires under control.
Kang was surprised and favorably impressed. General Maranta may have never fought in a battle, but he had studied strategy and tactics and he knew the abilities as well as the limitations of his troops and officers. General Maranta asked for questions. His officers asked for clarification on only a few issues. Everyone understood what he and his troops were to do. Everyone knew where and how he would die. For that’s what it came down to.
It was a good plan but in the end it must fail—to the weight of numbers, if nothing else. Five thousand draconians versus twenty-five thousand goblins, or possibly more. If the goblins sent in only half their army, the draconians would be fighting near impossible odds.
Which led Kang to his question. He wondered how the others could have missed it.
“Begging the general’s pardon, there’s a discrepancy here. You have an entire regiment manning this section of the wall and according to my calculations we don’t have that many men—”
“On the contrary, Commander,” General Maranta replied coolly. “I am expecting additional reinforcements.”
The other officers looked at each other, smiled and nodded their heads. Kang recalled Slith’s words about draconians raining down out of the skies.
“Might I ask, sir,” Kang said respectfully, “where these reinforcements are going to come from?”
“I am keeping the location of the reinforcements and their numbers a secret. Regrettable, but necessary, considering the presence of a human inside these walls.” General Maranta looked very hard at Kang. “Now if there is nothing more—”
“Sir, there is one more thing,” Kang said. “I have here a plan for a weapon that might assist in the fort’s defense. It looks a little strange, but if you’ll bear with me—”
Kang spread out the drawings of the Drunken Dragon over the map of the fort. The officers gathered around, looked at it, looked at each other. At least no one laughed, for which he was grateful. They all glanced sidelong at General Maranta.
“What is this, Commander?” General Maranta asked.
“A dragon, sir. If I may explain—”
“I can see it’s a dragon,” General Maranta returned. “Commander, these men have urgent business to attend to, important preparations to make. If you have nothing better to do than to draw childish pictures, I am certain that we can find work for you.”
“Sir,” said Kang, keeping himself under control. The detailed and complex schematic could hardly be described as a “childish picture.” “My idea for this dragon involves the defense of the fort. It will only take me a short time to explain.”
He indicated how the dragon would operate. When he reached the part about the keg bombs, he could see Vertax looking less doubtful and Yakanoh was nodding slightly. All the officers kept their eyes on General Maranta, waiting his reaction.
His reaction was a snort.
“Apparently there is nothing of importance left to be decided,” General Maranta said. “You are dismissed. Return to your duties.”
The other officers cast oblique glances at Kang and filed out. Kang remained stubbornly in his place.
“Sir,” he said, “may I have your permission to construct the dragon?”
“Why do you bother to ask, Commander?” General Maranta glared at him. “You have proceeded this far. You obviously intend to build the damn thing whether I give you permission or not.”
“I would like your permission, sir,” Kang said steadily.
“General Maranta, sir.” One of the Queen’s Own entered the command tent. He bent near, said something to the general in a low voice.
General Maranta listened, replied, “Very good. I will be there immediately.”
“Sir?” Kang persisted.
“Do what you want, Commander,” General Maranta said impatiently. “Waste time in whatever manner you and your slackers choose. Just so you’re sober and ready to fight when the attack commences. That’s all I care about.”
General Maranta departed, stalking out of the tent. Kang retrieved his plans, rolling them carefully, then he followed. He saw the general heading for the Bastion. A troop of the Queen’s Own marched after him. They disappeared inside. The heavy doors were bolted after them. More of the Queen’s Own took up posts outside.
It occurred to Kang that General Maranta had not mentioned where the Queen’s Own was going to be during the attack. Kang thought of the underground tunnels that had taken the general safely out of Neraka.
“He wouldn’t do that,” Kang said. “Neraka was a fight among humans. This is a battle involving his own people. He wouldn’t leave us.”
And at least, Kang had the general’s permission to proceed with the dragon. Some might have said it was more insult than permission, but it was all Kang needed.
* * * * *
On his return to the barracks, Kang called a meeting of his officers, including Huzzad and Fonrar. He found it odd to talk to the males with Fonrar in attendance. He found that he was drawn to look at her and talk to her alone. Comrades.
Knowing that this would never do, he decided to handle the uncomfortable situation by ignoring her completely. He handed copies of the plans over to the officers, then ordered them to pull everyone off repairing the fortifications.
“We’ve done what we can short of tearing this fort down and starting over,” he told them. “We built them a fort. Now we’re going to build them a dragon. I know this looks odd,” he added, waving his hand at the plans. His officers were looking extremely skeptical. “And we’re going to have to make the contraption from whatever material we can scrounge up around this fort. We can’t very well go outside to buy supplies. You’ve proven yourselves resourceful in the past. I have no doubt you will be this time. And I think we will be successful. We’ve done stranger things before.”
“Like catapulting a dead-drunk minotaur into a dragon,” said Gloth in an undertone to Fulkth.
“That worked!” Kang growled. “We k
illed the dragon, didn’t we?”
“Yes, sir,” said Gloth, looking guilty. He hadn’t meant the commander to hear him.
“Fulkth, as Chief Engineer, you’re in charge of checking these plans, and of the construction. Slith, you’ll be in charge of making the keg bombs.”
“Yes, sir.” Slith grinned. Making the keg bombs meant making a large supply of cactus juice.
“How long do we have, sir?” Fulkth asked, eyeing the plans. “A month.”
“Forty-eight hours,” Kang replied.
Fulkth’s jaw sagged, his tongue lolling out from between his lower fangs.
“Is that a problem, Fulkth?” Kang asked.
“Well, sir …” Fulkth began.
“Good.” Kang cut him off. “I didn’t think it would be. If you have any questions, you’ll have to find the answers yourselves, because I don’t have them. Dismissed.”
The other officers filed out.
“Sir,” said Fonrar. “I would—”
“Dismissed,” Kang repeated, not looking at her.
Fonrar hesitated a moment, then departed.
Kang sat down at his desk, dropped his head to hands. He knew he’d hurt Fonrar, but far better to hurt her feelings than to fail her and the others. Kang could see the situation deteriorating all around him. He felt as if he were holding a handful of sand. He had to keep his fist closed tight, not relax his concentration in the slightest, not allow himself to be distracted. If a single grain slipped through, the rest would follow in a torrent.
“At least there’s one bright side to this entire mess,” Kang muttered. “If we manage to live through this”—and Kang knew that this was a very big if—“General Maranta will undoubtedly change his mind about us leaving. To get rid of me, if nothing else.”
* * * * *
Fulkth spread out the plans for the Drunken Dragon and regarded them thoughtfully. The enemy was on the march. He was trapped inside a fort with hopelessly inadequate supplies. He had to build a gigantic dragon with flight capabilities and he had forty-eight hours (hopefully) in which to do it. Faced with this, Fulkth’s first trip was a visit to Slith’s distillery to check on the cactus juice.
The original wicker dragon had been made of a light wooden frame covered by a wicker carapace. The wicker dragon had been intended for use to intimidate newly hatched baaz. That dragon had been stationary. This version had to fly.
Kang’s plans called for the dragon to be covered with a skin that could be filled with hot air. Back in their village, Slith had once observed cinders being carried up a chimney on the hot air generated by the fire. He’d done some very nice calculations on the subject, with the result that when the female draconians had been little, Slith had filled pig’s bladders with hot air and let them loose to float up among the trees, to squeals of delight from the females. Kang had put the same principle into action with the dragon.
The frame for the Drunken Dragon would have to be extremely light weight. Pine would be ideal and, fortunately, there was plenty of pine wood in the compound. As for the skin, pig bladders were out of the question. No one had seen a pig in months. Fulkth settled on canvas panels that would be sewn together, then covered by a pine tar compound that would cause the canvas to adhere to the wood, seal any leaks or holes.
Fulkth determined that this would work for the dragon’s body, but he was worried about the wings. They not only had to look like wings, they had to be functional. They had to support flight, and they had to move in a convincing manner. Canvas would be too heavy. Paper would be ideal. For wing movement, Kang had come up with an ingenious solution. As the pressure in the central balloon grew from the expansion of the hot air, the pressure would force open two vents under the wings, one vent on each side. The escaping hot air would be trapped under the wings, causing the wings to rise. As the air cooled, it would dissipate, allowing the wings to fall. When the hot air built up again, the wings would lift, mimicking flight.
The final touch was a large cage in which they would stash what they were now calling the Cactus Keg Bombs and a fuse mechanism. Kang had added the cage to the front, but Fulkth recognized immediately that the weight would unbalance the dragon, cause it to tilt forward. After discussing this with his fellow officers, he came to the conclusion that this was a feature, not a design flaw.
As Slith pointed out, “If the dragon is tethered to the ground, it will rise and drift forward, until it pulls the rope taut. Once the rope is released, the dragon will sail forward in a glide that will carry it out over the enemy camp. Once there, it’s supposed to drop down and—boom.”
So that was the plan. All they had to do was assemble the parts and build.
Dremon, the Chief Supply Officer, was given the task of finding paper and canvas. Not only did he have to find them, he had to find them in large amounts. Dremon and his assistants hot-footed it to the supply center. He asked for paper and canvas. He was given several sheets of the first—enough to write a longish letter—and was told that they had none of the second.
Accustomed to improvising, Dremon asked for permission to search the warehouse for canvas. The Quartermaster was extremely busy handing out weapons, shields, spears and arrows, and he told Dremon precisely where he could stuff his canvas. Taking this as permission, Dremon and his assistants marched into the warehouse, past the protesting Quartermaster, and commenced their search.
“What’s this?” Dremon demanded, pointing to an enormous supply of canvas. “It looks like canvas to me.”
“Well, it isn’t,” said the Quartermaster. “It’s sails. You know, for a ship. You didn’t ask for sails.”
Twenty-two fully rigged sails to be precise. The sails had been made during the Chaos War, when General Maranta had planned an amphibious assault against some town somewhere, perhaps the very keep the Dark Knights now occupied. The war had ended before the assault could be carried out. Rats had chewed most of the rigging, but the canvas was in fine shape.
Dremon ordered his men to load up. He found no paper, but he did come across a supply of archery targets made of pasteboard. Since the draconians were going to be using goblins for archery practice, Dremon walked off with all the pasteboard. On his return to the barracks, he filled an enormous vat with boiling water, dumped in the pasteboard, and began cooking it to a pulp.
Fulkth ordered Yethik and Second Squadron to find pine wood and pine sap. Pine trees grew in abundance in the hills, but, unfortunately, at the moment, so did goblins. Yethik and his men prowled around the fort, looking over various wooden structures while their fellow draconians streamed past them, taking up positions on the walls.
“Found it, sir!” one of his men reported.
Ninth Infantry’s Maintenance Shed was built completely out of pine. Ninth Infantry was using the shed, however, hauling supplies into it and carrying weapons out. Yethik and his dracos hung about impatiently. When Ninth Infantry was called to drill on the parade square, Yethik and his squadron attacked the shed, tore it down, carted off the lumber and any supplies they thought might come in handy.
Pine sap proved to be a problem. There was none to be found. Some sort of substance was necessary to adhere the canvas “skin” to the wooden skeleton. Yethik feared the project was doomed, but then a baaz, returning from the mess hall, arrived carrying two buckets.
“Lunch ration, sir,” he reported.
Yethik peered into the buckets. He remembered this stuff from breakfast. “Take it away.” Yethik paused, an idea forming in the pit of his stomach.
“Wait a minute, trooper!” Yethik yelled. “Bring that stuff back.” He stuck a finger in the bucket. “Ideal!” he murmured. “Wonderful!”
“Sir?” The baaz stared at him.
“Go back to the mess tent,” Yethik ordered, “and ask for seconds. And see if you can find out the recipe.”
The baaz’s eyes nearly rolled out of his head. He had to make Yethik repeat the order twice. Yethik never found out what the goo was, but it stuck to anything it touched
and hardened rapidly. The goo was an ideal replacement for pine sap.
Gloth and his First Squadron were assigned to assemble the contraption. Using Yethik’s stolen lumber, the draconians began building the frame of the body, the cage and the skull. Celdak, one of Gloth’s Troop Officers, designed the fearsome head. It was his idea to add “fangs” made of old rusty broadsword blades. Not only would they add a touch of realism to the dragon, the fangs might impale a few gobbos if the wind was just right on landing.
Another squadron worked on the wing frame, laying out the wings side-by-side in the road in front of the barracks. Draconians stood guard, closing off the road to all carts and non-regimental draconians. They built the wing frame from the greenest of the pine wood, ensuring that it would be flexible and light. Once the frame was built, they planned to cover it with the wet pulp substance, mixing that with the brown goo. When the pulp mixed with goo dried, it formed a light-weight paper that stuck tightly to the frame, fingers, feet, tails and anything else it touched.
Fonrar and her troop were in charge of cutting up the sails to form large square panels of canvas that could be sewn over the central frame. They saved what rope was left from the rigging and tied it together to form one gigantic rope that would be used for the tether.
Once the central frame was complete, the draconians would sew the canvas over the central frame, then slather it with brown goo. Once the first coat of brown goo had dried, they would add a second. When it was dry, the skin would be rigid and air tight.
While the goo was drying, the draconians would mount three large vats in place under the central belly. When the dragon was ready for flight, they would build fires in the vats. The hot air would fill the dragon’s body and cause it to rise. In what he considered a stroke of genius, Fulkth conceived the idea of funneling the smoke to the dragon’s mouth. The Drunken Dragon would actually breathe fire.