Skit and Skat, as dragus, were sleek little dragons about as long as a man is tall. They were already imprinted on Treyhorn and Renshau, and with Kahshect’s assistance, they imprinted on Dax as well. Now, given a simple command, either dragon could be sent to any of the three. During the day, whichever dragu was with Dax at his end of the relay would forage in the vicinity of the troops, staying out of sight and, more importantly, smell of the horses. To send a message, Dax need only walk a short distance from camp and give a loud, piercing whistle to summon the dragu. In a sealed, waxed canvas rucksack, he kept a supply of dried rabbit to reward the dragu for responding. When he needed to send a message, he fastened a container to the dragu’s hind leg and sent him on the way. The system was clumsy, but it worked.
At least in theory, that was how it was supposed to work. They kept female dragus away from the males while they were working, but male dragus were not well-disciplined beasts, even without the distraction of their busy mating urges. Dragus did not have the intellectual power to understand the problems they caused. They were trained to forage on their own, but humans always had food. In no time at all, both dragus had discovered that Ugori youngsters were happy to give them something to eat from the camp supplies. When the miniature dragons swooped in to see if someone would feed them, they startled the horses. When they followed the smells and stuck their noses uninvited into a food tent, they startled the cooks. In short order, Skit and Skat had earned the nicknames Shit and Shat.
During each day’s march, Dax roamed the length of the Ugori column from the supply train at the rear to the honor guard at the fore. At this moment, he rode near the head of the column. The low afternoon sun highlighted the rolling relief of the empty, open land. Up ahead the light picked out shadows cast by this night’s ditch-and-wall camp thrown up by the advance party. By now this part of their march worked well. The Ugori were new to the idea of fortifying their evening campsites, but Dax had wanted to see if they could handle it. Plus, the ditch and wall made it easier for Skit and Skat to understand where they were not welcome.
Although it was a lot of work and slowed their march, the troops quickly saw the benefit of having a safe, secure place to spend the night. Dax did not make much of a point of it, but the biggest benefit of the practice was that, if need be, they could erect a makeshift stronghold quickly and efficiently. Every Fourth Night, Dax allowed them to camp in their usual sprawling style and enjoy an evening of relaxation. These informal camps were still ringed with doubled sentries. They were an army on the march, after all, and they needed to keep a proper military attitude.
#
A short time later, the scouting and construction team welcomed them into the camp they had created. The team was ready to leave even as the main body arrived. The advance group’s mission was to head out along the next day’s line of march after having supper with the main body. They would make a light camp with the setting sun, and during the next morning’s ride, the scouts would find a suitable campsite. The construction detail then got to work while the scouts went out along the line of march farther yet. When the scouts had gone their assigned distance beyond the construction detail, they returned to help finish the ditch and wall. As the scouting and construction teams got better at the process, they had time to relax and nap before the main body arrived.
#
As the Ugori worked their way farther north, the land grew more rolling, and small woodlands filled many of the lowland areas. One day they were skirting the edge of a wooded draw. Dax was thinking about the makeup of the next rotation of the construction detail when Scarlet interrupted his thoughts. “You’re humming.”
“What?” Dax blinked, distracted.
“You were humming,” his companion insisted. “And you never hum.”
Dax smiled. “Well, maybe I don’t know the words.”
“Words?” Scarlet laughed. “You don’t even know the tune!”
They both shared a laugh before Scarlet continued. “You must be feeling good today. If it was anyone else, I’d suspect they had been into the brew wagon early.”
Dax reflected a while and decided he really did feel good. Immediately he wondered why. This training mission was one problem after another. His staff was gradually learning how to deal with being on the march, but there was scarcely a moment to draw a deep breath between questions. He was busy. He was thinking. He was organizing. Although he had done all this on other assignments, this operation was different. This time he was not planning how to kill people. He was commanding, but he was not commanding blood and pain. He smiled at Scarlet. “I guess I just enjoy being busy.”
Scarlet smiled, and they rode on in silence, but Dax continued thinking. He enjoyed being the leader of the Ugori detachment, the Black Horse Rangers. He had enjoyed mentoring the cadets at Iron Moor. An old thought surfaced. Would he have been a good king? The Goddess’s path had taken him east. He had become a good leader—but a king? He frowned as he remembered the Great Mother’s words. There would be trouble. He would bring hope . . . Destiny. What did it mean? The future, beyond the marching Ugori all around him, was maddeningly opaque. They had seen a flock of carrion birds two days ago. Was it a portent of evil? The day before that, there had been a rainbow after a morning shower. Was it a sign of good things?
He thought about the inn in Falls Meadow where they had stayed on the way to Frohliem City. They had seen a pretty young woman that night. She had played the lute, and Scarlet had talked to her. She had played a catchy little song, but how did it go . . . ?
#
The system of leapfrogging from camp to camp worked well. After a month on the move, the routine was smooth and familiar. They marched into the southern edge of the Gemmick Hills and camped for a week of casual visits with friends and relatives in the area. After the Gemmick Hills, they headed south toward Frohliem City. One night two weeks later, the mess detail was cleaning up the last of the evening meal when one of the scouts came thundering back into camp. Dax heard the galloping horses and left his tent to check the news.
The scout was sweating, and his horse was lathered and breathing hard. “Sir!” he panted, acknowledging Dax with a quick courtesy salute.
“Demmeto. What is it?”
“We come on a track about four miles ahead.” He stopped to draw another breath. “Looks to be a marching column, sir. We didn’t see them, but the trace showed maybe a couple hundred men.”
“The rest of your team?”
“The scouts divided up. Two groups followed the trace in either direction. The other searched beyond the crossing point for other traces. I came back to tell you, sir.”
“The construction team?” Since the scouting team had followed orders exactly, Dax expected the others had as well.
“Making a new camp at the crossing where we found the trace.”
“Good. Any sign of who they are?”
“Nothing direct, sir,” said the scout. “There was almost no horse sign on the track.”
That caused Dax to raise his eyebrows. The East Landly Lancers traveled with their beloved horses. They had foot battalions, but the foot were usually stationed as garrison units in the cities. The East Landly military would help honor the arriving Tharan delegation in just a few days, but it did not make sense to have a large company, or a small battalion, of foot moving anywhere.
“Thank you for the report, Demmeto,” Dax said and clapped the man on the shoulder. “You and your team did a good job. Get cooled down and rest a bit. Depending on what the other scouts find, we could be busy before long.”
The man headed for the mess tent to see if there was any food left, and Dax went back to his own tent. He had been in the process of updating his log about the events of the day. He shooed away the prairie flies that had settled on it in his absence and put the log away. He sat and thought about possible explanations for a marching column out on the prairies of northern East Landly. Nothing seemed to fit. Should he send a message to Frohliem City? But who would
he send it to? What would it say? Without solid facts, he had nothing to report.
From the increased bustle and noise, Dax knew the camp was alive with talk and speculation, but he decided it would be best to keep operations as normal as possible until he knew for certain what was going on. Therefore, he retired at his usual time shortly after supper, but not before leaving word with the sentries to wake him if there were any new developments.
#
There was no news by morning. The absence of information made Dax impatient. He ordered the Ugori to stay in camp that morning since their next camp was only a short distance farther on. He was pacing outside his tent an hour after breakfast when the sentries called an incoming rider. The woman rode directly to Dax’s tent before dismounting.
“Sir.” She nodded in brief acknowledgment. “They are headed toward the capital about two days’ march ahead of us. There’s two hundred, maybe two hundred and half of ’em, most on foot and carrying long pikes.” The scout reached into her horse’s saddle bag. “We found this.” She handed Dax a scabbard with a broken belt loop. It was empty, but Dax scarcely noticed. His eyes were riveted by the Tharan royal crest tooled into the leather.
Dax looked up at the rider. “Tharan.”
“Yes, sir. That’s why we thought you should see it at once.”
“Thank you, Mintal. You and the other scouts did good work.” He spoke in carefully controlled tones, but his muscles were tense as he controlled his dragon anger. Thara. Again. A moment later he thought to ask, “Was there anything else that might indicate that this party is Tharan?”
Mintal nodded her head. “Yes, sir. This was the only thing we found with any markings”—she pointed at the sheath—“but Cass and Willot backtracked to their last campsite and found myrtleberry seeds.”
They were Tharan. Myrtleberries grew only in Thara, and the dried seeds, when chewed, were a mildly addictive stimulant. “Find a myrtleberry, find a Tharan” was the old saying. “Thank you, Mintal,” Dax said absently. Tharans were on the march in East Landly territory, and he had an Ugori army at his back. A pulse of rage made his sword arm twitch. He looked and realized the scout was still standing there. He added, “Yes, double-good work. This is important information.” Finally, awkwardly, he remembered to add, “Uh, dismissed.”
After Mintal left, Dax thought the whole situation through one more time. Ordered thoughts restrained his dragon anger—usually. He took another minute to make sure he was in control before he sent word for Scarlet, Markadamous, and the rest of the officers. Maybe they could think of a legitimate reason why a party of Tharans would be heading toward Frohliem City. He certainly could not. The military reception for the delegation of Tharan officers and diplomats should be in the city now, but all the Tharans were supposed to arrive by ship in the city’s harbor. His dragon side lusted to kill Tharans, but he could not attack legitimate, official emissaries from the empire.
The others quickly reached the same conclusion as Dax when they saw the scabbard. While one scabbard did not make it a war party, a war party would have many more scabbards than a merchant party. A single scabbard would be more likely to be lost or thrown away in a war party. Everyone agreed the Tharans were trouble. But what kind? Dax’s Ugori were a fighting force in a position to attack before the Tharans reached the city. The officers agreed. They would challenge the Tharans.
#
Early the next morning, Dax led a delegation of Ugori out of their camp to find the Tharans. Dax called it a delegation because he meant to approach the Tharan force with an open mind. They might have a connection to the diplomatic mission in the capital. Therefore, he would not create an incident. With only twenty-five fighters, his delegation would not seriously threaten a Tharan force ten times their number. However, the Tharans could not ignore his delegation. They would see what they would see, and the Tharan response would show their intent.
He ordered the rest of the Ugori to move up to the campsite where the Tharans’ trail had been discovered. They would camp there until Dax and the delegation made contact. Since Dax and his force were traveling light and riding fast, they should overtake the Tharans before nightfall. It was times like these when Dax wished he had Kahshect’s eyes in the sky to monitor the tactical situation. Unfortunately, the Great Treaty meant no dragon could aid a human army in that way. Not even for a bondmate.
The patrol took few breaks, and they rode the mountain horses hard. Although they were small, the horses proved their worth with every mile that passed under their hooves. They spotted the dust cloud raised by the Tharan force in midafternoon and overtook their trailing riders an hour later. Any question about the Tharan intentions vanished when six men on horseback peeled off their rear guard, drew their swords, and galloped toward the Ugori. Two other Tharans spurred their mounts forward, headed to warn the main body.
Dax drew his sword, and his dragon anger surged. The Ugori drew their weapons with him and urged their horses to a run. They rolled through the Tharan charge quickly and kept on going. Dax took a quick count and saw all his riders still with him. He had seen at least two of the Tharans unhorsed, he but had no idea if they were dead or injured. None of the Tharans had come close enough for Dax to swing at them. Dax’s battle anger simmered, but he had control.
Just ahead, the Tharans’ rear guard had drawn up in a position across the center of the road. Dax called a halt well short of the line. Would the Tharans be willing to avoid a fight? Once all his riders had drawn up short of the Tharans, Dax sheathed his sword and rode forward with both arms raised. He saw several archers in the Tharan’s second rank draw their bows. He slowed, still with his arms raised.
His horse ambled two more steps closer, and the archers loosed. Dax immediately jerked the horse’s head to the right and put his heels into her flanks. One arrow hit him in the back, but it was almost spent from the long flight and did not penetrate his leather armor. It was a good, stout thump, however, and it emphasized that the decision to fight or parlay had been made for him. He smiled. His wrath simmered as he planned the next move.
Back in the Ugori line, Dax swung around to face the Tharans. There were too many to charge head-on. He drew his sword and ordered a mounted attack on the right flank of the Tharan line. The weeks of drill paid off. The Ugori swept by at a gallop. Their volley of short spears impaled several Tharans as the Ugori dashed away without ever closing within range of the Tharans’ swords. The Tharan archers failed to score on the rapidly moving Ugori.
The Tharans stood their ground. Dax motioned for another pass at their line. The Ugori circled back and raked the other end of the Tharans’ line with another volley of spears. This time more of the Tharan archers were ready, and they were greeted with a larger flight of arrows.
The Ugori turned and swept off at a right angle to the way they had approached until they were well out of sight of the Tharans. Dax called a halt, and the riders gathered around him. Their horses were breathing heavily, but they were still stepping nervously, full of energy. “All right, we’ve figured out what their intentions are,” Dax said once the men had quieted enough to hear. They chuckled along with him. Their shared excitement gradually diminished. “Any injuries?” he called. Two men responded. Kratch had a scratch along the side of his neck, while Minnin had taken an arrow in the hand. Not bad. He had seen at least a dozen Tharans go down.
“Buppin,” Dax called to their medic, “bind their wounds. We will ride back.” The men stayed seated on their horses while Buppin dismounted and tended to the injured men.
While Buppin worked on Minnin’s hand, Kratch held a now-bloody rag to the wound on his neck. He rode up beside Dax. “So now what?” he asked.
“Hopefully that little raid will pin them in place.” Dax turned his mount and looked back the way they had come. “They should camp there this evening”—he nodded in the direction of the Tharans—“if not for tomorrow as well.” He looked back at his delegation turned war band. “They don’t know what’s behind t
hem. If their leader reacts as he should, they will hesitate to go on until they find out.”
Now that the exhilaration of combat had passed, Dax felt tired. His immediate lust for blood had abated, but his urge to kill Tharans lurked in the back of his mind. The others must be tired as well. Once the men’s wounds were tended, they started back toward the Ugori encampment. They rode for an hour before he called a halt. Dax dismounted, and the rest of the men did the same. “I don’t know about you, men,” he said, “but I could use a little rest. That was a good day’s work. We’ll camp here, but we’ll be on our way before sunup. Cold rations tonight, but we had a hot time of it today, eh?” There were murmurs of agreement, and the men went about breaking out their bedrolls.
After they had all eaten, Dax appointed the first watch and turned in with the rest. Dax took the last watch because he wanted to be well awake when it was time to get his raiders up and ready in the morning.
#
Before they left camp in the morning, Dax divided his group in two. The main group of fifteen would turn and track the Tharans. He ordered them to stay hidden when possible and send a rider to report the position and actions of the Tharans each day. A smaller group would accompany Dax back to the main body of Ugori to muster them for combat. Now he would see how effective his training had been.
As soon as they arrived at the Ugori encampment at midday, Dax called a council of war. His Ugori troops were part of the East Landly military. Since there was a hostile party of Tharans on its way toward Frohliem City, their duty was clear—defend the capital. The Tharan group was smaller, but they were all fighters. The Ugori had larger numbers and could travel faster at need. However, his force included noncombatants as well as wagons from their supply train. He would take the fastest fighters with him while the rest defended their fortified encampment.
King's Dragon: Chronicles of the Dragon-Bound: Book 2 Page 15