Draconian Measures

by Don Perrin

  White hot flame flashed from Thesik’s fingertips. The flame shot across the room in a breath-snatching wave of fire, engulfed General Maranta. Kang felt the heat of the flames burning his scales and then Granak had seized hold of his commander and began dragging him backward, out of danger.

  Maranta screamed in pain. He danced and flailed about, batting himself with his arms, trying to put out the magical fire.

  “Don’t let him die!” Kang ordered frantically. “Do something! Put out the flames!”

  “But, sir—” Slith protested angrily. “He tried to kill me!”

  “You know what happens when an aurak dies!” Kang yelled over the roar of the flames.

  “Oh, hell! Right, sir,” said Slith, jumping to his feet. “Good point. Cut the commander loose,” he ordered, handing the knife to Thesik.

  General Maranta had fallen to the floor, was writhing in agony, flopping and thrashing and screaming. Slith and Granak tried to approach the general, hoping to beat out the flames, but the fire was now too strong, the heat too intense. They could hear his flesh pop and sizzle in the heat. The smell was nauseating. Maranta’s shrieks were horrible to hear.

  “I don’t think there’s much we can do, sir,” Slith cried.

  “Run for it!” Kang shouted. “Bring those sivaks!” He gestured to the two unconscious sivaks on the floor.

  Slith shook his head. “C’mon, Granak! Grab one of these bastards.”

  Kang’s feet were untied, if his hands weren’t. He started to run, then he saw Thesik, frozen in horror, staring at the dying general.

  “I didn’t mean …” She whimpered.

  Kang caught hold of her. “You did what had to do, Thesik! Now we have to run!”

  She gulped, nodded. Granak lifted of one the unconscious sivaks, swept him up in his arms. Using his powerful wings and legs, he propelled both of them half-way across the chamber in a flapping leap. Slith was also using his wings, dragging his sivak along like a vulture with an overlarge kill.

  Kang dashed after them. He was about to take to the air himself when he saw out of the corner of his eye something glitter in the flames. The black crystal globe lay on the floor near the wall, where it had rolled to a stop.

  “Go on!” he roared.

  Dodging sideways, he made a dive for the globe, clutching at it with both hands that were still bound at the wrists. He managed to snag it, but when he stood up, he staggered, nearly lost his balance. He would have fallen but there was Thesik’s hand at his elbow, helping to steady him.

  “You all right?” he asked Thesik.

  She was wide-eyed, horror-stricken. Her eyes shifted in the direction of the flame-filled room.

  “Don’t look!” Kang could see the general’s body withering in the heat. The general’s screams were trailing away to a dying gurgle.

  “Clear the area!” Kang bellowed. The chamber was still filled with kapaks. He could see his own troops at the far end, could see Fonrar looking for him and Thesik anxiously. “Get everyone out of here!” he shouted again.

  Granak tossed the sivak through the illusionary door and then began herding the kapaks out of the chamber, into the Audience Hall. Kang grabbed Thesik and raced for the door, running and flapping his wings until he thought his heart would burst from his chest. He had ceased to yell, he needed all his breath. The females were gone from the chamber, with the exception of Fonrar. She had made certain her troops were safe in the Audience Hall, but she hadn’t joined them. She was working to keep the kapaks moving, her gaze on Thesik and Kang.

  The general quit screaming.

  “Down!” Kang shouted and he plunged to the floor, dragging Thesik with him. He rolled over on top of her, covering her body with his own body and his wings.

  He heard thuds and thumps all around him, those left in the room obeying his orders. And then another body was alongside his. Fonrar flung herself down beside Thesik, flung her own arm and wings protectively over her friend.

  Green light flickered against Kang’s eyelids. A wave of searing heat washed over him. The air was charged with electricity that crackled painfully through his body. Fonrar’s hand found his arm, clutched him convulsively. A thunderous boom shook the Bastion. The floor dropped out from under Kang, then rose up to meet him, knocking the breath from his lungs. Debris rained down from the ceiling. If the building collapsed, they would be buried under tons of hard-baked mud and wood.

  “Hold, damn you!” Kang told the building. “Hold, hold.”

  A crash came behind him. The general’s quarters had become his tomb, if one could actually speak of entombing whatever ashes were left of the aurak. The Bastion gave a shudder and Kang’s heart stopped beating. Fonrar’s grip on his arm tightened, her claws gouging him painfully.

  The building shuddered and then was still.

  The Bastion held.

  Kang took back all the nasty things he’d said about the construction workers. They had not built a pretty structure, but, the gods bless them, they had built a secure one. He clambered to his feet, throwing off dust and the odd bit of chipped mortar. He looked over at Fonrar.

  Her face was covered with rock dust. Blood trickled down past her eye from a cut on the head, but she smiled at him reassuringly. Between them, they helped Thesik to stand. She was trembling and wobbly, more from the shock of the horror she had witnessed than from the blast.

  “I killed him, Fon,” Thesik said thickly. “But what else could I do?”

  “Nothing, Thesik,” Fonrar said soothingly, putting her arms around her friend. “Nothing. Come along. Don’t think about it. It’s all over.”

  Thesik shivered and shook her head.

  “Will she be all right?” Kang asked, managing to free himself from the bonds that bound his wrists. He stuffed the globe away safely into his webbing.

  “Yes, sir,” said Fonrar. “I’ll take care of her.”

  “Sir!” Granak loomed up in front of him. “Subcommander Slith sent me to see if you were safe and to tell you that you’re needed in the Audience Hall. Fast.”

  Several kapaks were jammed inside the door, trying to flee the terror of the inner chamber. Granak picked them up and tossed them aside, opening the way for Kang. He emerged into the Audience Hall to find all of the armed and armored draconians on their feet, weapons drawn, facing Slith and his small force of females.

  One of the Queen’s Own had regained consciousness. He was on his feet, pointing at Slith.

  “They killed the general!” he was saying. “They are traitors! Slay them! That’s an order!”

  The draconians started to advance. Slith stood with his sword drawn, the females with their weapons ranged around him.

  “You blasted lizard!” Granak swore, shaking his fist at him. “And to think I carried you to safety.”

  Kang gripped his battle-axe. He had worked so hard to save his people, and now his people were going to repay the favor by killing not only him but their own future.

  “I have an idea, sir,” Slith said.

  “An idea would be much appreciated about now,” Kang said in grim tones.

  “Tell them to halt,” said Slith.

  Kang glared at him.

  “I mean it, sir!” Slith was insistent. “You outrank that bastard. Maranta trained the draconians to strict obedience. Make it your best arrogant, you-sons-of-bitches-I’m-your-superior-officer-order to halt, sir. You do that really well.”

  Kang chose to ignore that comment. Walking forward, making himself an excellent target, should any one of these dracos choose to attack, he threw out his chest, raised his hand with an imperious gesture and shouted, “Company will halt. Halt!”

  To his complete and utter shock and surprise, the company halted.

  The Queen’s Own, hissing in fury, opened his mouth.

  Kang nodded to Granak, who gave the sivak a tap on the head. The sivak slumped to the floor, unconscious once again.

  Kang breathed a sigh.

  “Good to see you’re still in one p
iece, sir,” said Slith, grinning. “No offense, but I wouldn’t want a hundred of you. I’d be saluting every time I turned around.”

  “And I don’t think the world’s ready for a thousand of you, either,” Kang said, smiling back.

  He looked out over the assembled troops, who were standing at attention, awaiting orders.

  “Now let’s go fight the real battle,” Kang said.

  Kang had completely lost track of time below ground. Days might have passed or years. They might emerge from the Bastion to find the goblins had slaughtered every draconian in the fort and were taking possession. He had forgotten about the battle against the goblins during his terrible struggles with the general. He remembered it clearly enough now and wondered if all that had been for nothing, if he was destined to die ignominiously, a goblin arrow through his throat.

  “Sir, if we thread this maze, it’ll take us a year and a day to get all these troops out of here,” Slith observed.

  “You’re right,” said Kang. “And after that blast, some of the tunnels have probably collapsed. Don’t bother to thread the maze. Put these kapaks to work bashing holes in the walls. I need them up there as fast as possible.”

  “Yes, sir.” Slith ran off, shouting orders.

  Kang turned to look for Fonrar, found her waiting at his shoulder, sword in hand, ready to stand or fall alongside him. He allowed himself a brief moment of pure pleasure, then wrenched himself back to duty. They weren’t out of this yet.

  “Where’s Thesik?”

  “Here, sir,” said Thesik. She managed a wan smile. “I’m fine, sir. Thank you.”

  “I need you, Thesik,” said Kang. “I have to get out of this maze and back outside fast.”

  “I can guide you, sir,” said Thesik. “I know the way.”

  “Granak,” Kang said, “stick to me like that brown goo.” He looked at Fonrar. “I have no other bodyguard. Will you and your troop act as one for me?”

  “We would be honored, sir!” Fonrar said, glowing so brightly that her scales seemed to shimmer.

  “Let’s move!” Kang gestured.

  Thesik took the lead. She traversed the maze unerringly, never faltering, never losing her way. Kang and the females followed at a run. Behind them, they could hear the draconian army of dunderheads, as Slith had termed them, starting to claw through the walls like devouring rats.

  Ahead, echoing down the tunnel, they heard the sounds of battle—the clash of steel, snarls and fierce growls.

  “Huzzad!” Kang gasped. He’d forgotten about her in the excitement, forgotten that he’d left her alone to defend the entrance to the Bastion. If the goblins had broken through, she might be defending against an army …

  But she wasn’t fighting goblins.

  Huzzad stood blocking the entryway, battling the Queen’s Own, who were attempting to force their way inside. She had lowered the portcullis—one sivak lay groaning beneath it. Two others were attempting to rip the portcullis down, while four more, armed with pikes, thrust the pikes through the portcullis and fended off Huzzad, kept her from interfering with the work.

  Huzzad bled from numerous wounds, but she grinned as she fought, taunting her attackers. Her sword flashed in the light of the fires burning in the fort beyond. She had sliced off the iron points of one of the pikes—the sivak holding that one was now poking at her with the end of the splintered pole. Several of the sivaks were bleeding from wounds, where Huzzad had darted in to slice at them with her sword.

  “Get away from there!” Kang shouted down the corridor and he had the amazing satisfaction of seeing the Queen’s Own obey. They vanished from in front of the portcullis.

  I’m really getting good at this, Kang thought to himself.

  Huzzad turned at his shout, lifted her sword and started to wave.

  A bolt from a crossbow sliced through the portcullis. The shaft struck Huzzad in the chest with such force that it knocked her back against the wall. She crumpled to the ground.

  That was why the sivaks had retreated, Kang realized. They were making room for the archer.

  Kang gave a great bellowing roar of fury and started to run forward, but he was elbowed and shoved and nearly trampled in the rush of the female draconians, who surged around him and past him, shrieking in rage. Fonrar and Riel hit the portcullis with a rush, ripping it from the ceiling. Holding the portcullis in front of them, the two smashed into the front ranks of the sivaks. Hanra and Shanra came behind, Hanra pausing to skewer the sivak who had been pinned beneath the portcullis. The battle swirled out the entrance to the Bastion. Kang lost sight of what was happening, but he could hear Fonrar’s voice shouting orders and Shanra’s wild giggle.

  “Go with them!” Kang ordered Granak. “Keep the damage to a minimum!”

  “I think the women have it pretty well in hand, sir,” said Granak, peering over Kang’s head.

  “Not them!” Kang swore. “The Queen’s Own! I don’t want them all dead!”

  “I don’t think they’re any great loss, sir,” Granak remarked, but he dashed ahead to carry out Kang’s command.

  Kang hurried to the entrance of the Bastion, where Thesik was holding Huzzad cradled in her arms.

  Kang glanced at the bolt, saw only the tip protruding from Huzzad’s breast. He could smell her warm blood, if he couldn’t see it, black against her black armor. He knelt by her side. Her face was livid. Her eyes huge and misted with pain. Looking up at him, she swallowed and grimaced.

  “I don’t think … kapak spit … will heal this,” she said.

  Kang took hold of her hand. Soldiers know when death is upon them. He would not insult her with senseless lies or meaningless platitudes.

  “Thank you, Huzzad,” he said quietly.

  “Comrades?” she said with a pain-filled smile.

  “Comrades,” he said and he held her hand tight as he watched the life drain out of her eyes.

  Huzzad’s head fell back limply in Thesik’s arms, the red hair flowing around her shoulders, glistening in the firelight.

  “Huzzad!” Thesik cried, giving her a shake.

  Kang laid his arm on Thesik’s arm. “Lay her down. There’s nothing more you can do for her.”

  Thesik raised a stricken gaze. “She’s not— No! She can’t be. I liked her!”

  The other females returned, gathered around. The females had known death since they were small. Draconians had died almost from the day the females had been saved. But those deaths had been far distant, removed from them. Kang had seen to that. This was the first death that really hit close. This was as if one of them had died. Perhaps right now they were coming face to face with their own mortality. And that of those they loved. Comrades.

  Kang could not protect them from this. Nor, he realized, as he rose to face them, did he want to. They had grown up in a very short time, it seemed to him. But they had grown up.

  “You avenged her death,” he said to the twenty pairs of grieving eyes that were fixed on him. “That was right and proper. After this is finished, we will give her an honorable burial. But now we have to go on. We have to keep fighting. Otherwise her death will be meaningless.”

  He heard a whimper—Shanra. Fonrar ordered her to pull herself together. Emerging from the Bastion, Kang saw two more of the Queen’s Own dead, including the one with the crossbow. His head had been cut off.

  Well, as Granak had observed, no great loss. Kang wasn’t certain he wanted little Queen’s Own running about anyway.

  The remainder of the Queen’s Own stood in a group, glaring at Granak, who had appropriated the crossbow and had it trained on them.

  “I thought you might want to have a word with them, sir,” Granak said, catching sight of Kang. “I told them that if a wing so much as quivered, someone would have a bolt instead of an eyeball.”

  “Well done.” Kang growled. “You men.” He turned to the Queen’s Own, addressed them in what he would now forever think of as his best arrogant you-son-of-bitches manner. “General Maranta is dead.
I’m in command. What time of day is it? What’s the status of the battle?”

  The Queen’s Own gaped at him. “We don’t believe you,” said one sullenly.

  “Fine! Don’t believe me! I still outrank you.” Kang roared. “What’s the goddamn status of the goddamn battle?”

  Their eyes shifted to Granak and the crossbow.

  “It’s near dawn, sir. We held against the first assault,” said the officer finally. “But we’ve taken heavy casualties. The goblins are regrouping. We expect them to attack at dawn, throw at us everything they’ve got.”

  “Report to your commanding officer,” Kang told them. “There’s nothing more you can do here.”

  The sivaks of the Queen’s Own exchanged uncertain glances. They looked at Kang, grim, covered with blood and dust; at the squadron of tough, confident females ranged behind him; at the immense Granak, who stood holding the crossbow. Picking up their dead, the Queen’s Own departed.

  “This way,” said Kang, and he and his troop headed back for the front gate at a run.

  The fort was quiet, except for the moaning of those who had been wounded and for the occasional barked order from an officer. They passed charred, burned out buildings. One entire block of structures was gone. Several of the fires started by goblin flaming arrows were raging out of control, with too few left to fight them. The air was filled with smoke that made breathing difficult, stung the eyes. Kang tried to see the Drunken Dragon, make certain it was safe and ready to launch, but the swirling smoke was too thick.

  Draconians lined the walls in silence, waiting to push back the next assault that would most likely be the last. They could not withstand a massive attack in force. Kang could not see from his vantage point, but he could feel a rumbling in the ground beneath his feet and guessed that the goblins were trundling forward heavy siege engines. He pictured huge stones smashing into the rickety walls or, worse, into the fragile Drunken Dragon. They had to launch soon. They had to get the contraption off the ground before those stones started flying.