Battledragon (19 page)

Her reasons for this belief concerned the motions of clouds, winds, and waves, and basically centered on her long and extensive experience of the world's oceans.

All ships were to maintain a westerly course. If any were blown off course during the coming onslaught, they were to head for the Watering Isle, which lay about three hundred miles west of their position. The fleet would rendezvous there as soon as possible.

As the night watches wore on, the seas grew mountainous and the winds intensified until vicious squalls broke out in the early morning that caused the white ships to heel over in the water as they struggled with shifting wind directions and cross-cutting waves.

Barley
rose and fell with a sickening, jagged motion during these periods that disturbed even such sound sleepers as dragonboys, who found their hammocks tossed violently around. Only dragons slept through it all undisturbed.

Relkin came on deck shortly after dawn and found that the ship was dancing up and down the flanks of enormous waves, while huge packets of spray flew right across the ship's deck at head height. The clouds were gone, however, and the sun shone brightly. When he looked aft, he saw in the distance a mountain of cloud, a vast swirling wall that stretched across the edge of the eastern horizon.

A mile astern rode old
Potato
and beyond her could be seen the sails of
Oat
. To the south Relkin saw
Sugar
and a smaller vessel that he could not identify. He asked a sailor with whom he had good relations and was informed that the smaller ship was the frigate
Flute
and that the fleet was all accounted for, just somewhat spread out across the ocean. Furthermore, since the hurricane had shifted north and east, they had merely been clipped by the outside edge of the storm and were now moving away from it rapidly. The captain had gone to bed long since, and was sleeping soundly.

All that day they continued to sail westward under strong winds from the east that very gradually abated through the afternoon.

The final hour of daylight had begun when a shout from the maintops informed Captain Olinas that
Flute
was in sight to the northwest and had reported sighting land.

In moments
Barley
was trimming sails and shifting her course to the north and east.

The Watering Isle was another mid-ocean volcanic peak, this time with twin cones, both heavily eroded, since their inner fires had long since burned out. A wide coral reef ringed the island, which supported a lush forest and a small population of fisherfolk.

The fleet formed a line after
Flute
had entered the lagoon and pronounced it safe, and led by
Barley
, the white ships sailed carefully through the broad S-shaped channel that led into the inner lagoon.

Once inside they cast their anchors while boats were sent ashore to convey greetings and presents to the native chiefs. Double-hulled canoes came out in great numbers to surround the white ships and proffer them fruit and drink. The natives were a people of large stature, with comely limbs and an attractive,easygoing nature. Between them and the white ships, there had always been perfect amity. The mariners of Cunfshon had always paid for their water, and they had always behaved well toward the islanders. Nonetheless, legion commanders spoke to the legionaries before any set foot on the shore and warned them to adopt their best behavior. In particular, they were to leave the native women alone, and they were not to accept drinks of
pulji
, a seductive narcotic that was popular throughout the Southern Hemisphere of Ryetelth. The natives were used to this dream-inducing drink, but it could send those unused to it into wild, terrified seizures in which they thought they were being chewed by insects or pursued by men with worm-ridden faces. Any legionaries who transgressed these rules would face the lash.

Again and again the point was made that this was to be a brief and businesslike visit. They would ship water and greenstuffs, and then they would be gone. They had lost precious time in the doldrums, and Admiral Cranx was determined to try and make it up now that they were on the final leg of the voyage.

At the same time, it was realized by the commanders that all the men deserved a break ashore and a chance to relax on the warm coral sand that made up the inner beach. Parties of one hundred at a time were sent ashore, under the strict eye of sergeants and lieutenants, who were to arrest anyone who got out of line.

Eventually even dragonboys got to stretch their legs ashore when they went with their dragons to draw water.

The spring flowed into a pool of freshwater that was a place of wild floral beauty. Massive gum trees were carpeted with white and pink orchids while enormous magenta blossoms of the scarlet creeper gave off an exotic, overripe scent. Tall graceful palms waved in the breeze, and the pool itself lay over a bed of pure white coral sand.

The dragons sang as they marched up the little stream and happily plunged into the freshwater pool when they reached it. A stream ran from the pool down into a lagoon, from which a flotilla of boats and cutters were bringing the ships' empty water barrels up the stream. They could not enter the pool itself because of a bar of rock and sand at the entrance.

The dragons' job was to push the empty barrels across the pool and position them beneath the flowing spring to fill them. Then they were to heave the full barrels back to the cutters and help load them.

The dragons enjoyed the cold freshwater after the heat and humidity of the tropics. They happily sloshed back and forth, gathering in fours to heave the big ones back into the ship's cutters.

A pair of dragons could do the work of ten or twenty men, and they soon drew a crowd of awed and excited natives. The islanders had never seen Argonathi wyverns before, although they had heard many tales and legends.

A constant line of people stayed around the pool just to watch the wyverns at work. The dragons were used to it. Humans liked to gawk and stand around doing as little as possible. Meanwhile there was plenty to be done. Each of the big ships carried hundreds of tons of drinking water, and refilling all those barrels took time. The process would take several days to complete.

They worked in two-hour shifts in the pool, followed by big meals of stir about and akh. Dragonboys peeled pineapples for the big wyverns, who ate them by the handful like grapes. At night they camped onshore, as did a few hundred trusted legionaries. Mindful of the great prohibition against swimming in the ocean, the dragons camped near the pool under the flowing spring so as to be near freshwater and well away from the temptations of the lagoon.

Dragonboys spent the day gathering brush and firewood and purchasing meal and fresh fish from the islanders. Having worked hard all day, the dragons ate like titans and drank kegs of the native "beer," which was fermented from the
poolki
, a fruit with furry skin and pale green flesh. Though it didn't suit the dragons as much as Argonathi ale, they drank it happily enough before they burst into song.

The native folk were stunned by this nighttime uproar. There were a dozen great campfires blazing on the strand and upward of a hundred great monsters drinking
poolki
and roaring together. The sound could be heard right across the island, and people came out of their homes and stared up into the night as they heard the great voices in and out of harmony.

After a while the dragons finished and laid themselves contentedly out on the sand beneath the stars. They were quite unaware of the sensation they had caused.

A group of natives approached Dragon Leader Wiliger where he sat by a small fire. The squadron's pennant flew from a pole beside his tent, so the natives had deduced that he was the commander of this particular stretch.

They spoke a crude Verio, but by dint of repetitions and the use of hand signals conveyed their meaning clearly.

"What you want for one of these dragons? We like to buy 'one, or maybe more if they cheap enough."

Wiliger was stunned at first, then he broke into a laugh.

"No, no, my friends, dragons are not for sale."

The native men stared at one another and then back at Wiliger.

"Maybe you make gift of dragon, then, for friendship with us island people."

Again Wiliger was forced to disappoint the native men, who stood around, talking among themselves, and examining the sleeping dragons for quite some time.

Wiliger found this all very amusing and passed it on to the dragonboys, who did not. With more elaborate sign language, Wiliger tried to explain to the natives that the dragons were soldiers for the Empire of the Rose, as much people in their way as the men and boys, and that when they were aroused they were a terrifying foe.

It was unclear how much of all this was absorbed by the islanders, who were slow to disperse.

The dragonboys did not pass on this insulting story to their charges, who remained sound asleep throughout. The old saying that "a sleeping dragon is best left undisturbed" never seemed more appropriate. However, a watch was posted thereafter.

Relkin drew the first watch, and shinned up one of the palm trees to the thick mass of fronds at the top. The fronds were sharp-edged, but by spreading a piece of matting from the barrel boats, he was able to sit there quite comfortably and enjoy a view of the lagoon with the lights of the great ships at anchor.

The dragons lay spread out in a row of great, snoring shadows on the white sand. All was perfectly still, but for the breeze that came down from the volcanoes bearing a scent of the forest: dank, fruity, and mysterious.

He began to think wistfully of Eilsa Ranardaughter. How much better it would be if she was there with him! Then this exotic and wonderful scene would be complete.

He watched the ships, moored in a long line out in the grand lagoon. Each one of those great white shapes, so ghostly and pale under the moonlight, was a floating world of its own, complete with characters of every type and class. For months now
Barley
had been his entire world, with
Potato
and
Sugar
as nearby, other worlds that might be seen with a telescope but never spoken to. How far away the ships seemed, and so small. He mused on the perception of things for a while. Aboard the
Barley
, the tyranny of Dragon Leader Wiliger became an oppressive center of the universe. From up on the palm tree, it all seemed far away and unimportant.

He would put up with Wiliger and survive him. They had withstood Dragon Leader Turrent and ultimately won him over. It had taken a while but Turrent had mellowed, and the 109th dragonboys had grown much better about such things as cap badges. They would not break down under Wiliger's tyranny.

Relkin knew that Wiliger was under some great stress. His mood swung wildly, and his behavior was unpredictable.

With the dragonboys, Wiliger was under the misapprehension that reading to them from his favorite tomes was going to foster a sense of warmth and appreciation for him.

Alas, Chesler Renkandimo's treatise on
Care of the Wyvern Dragon
was all nonsense as far as dragonboys were concerned. Renkandimo was much concerned with the dragon's soul and believed it to be associated with ocean and rock and the eternal conflict between them. Human souls were linked to air and fire. Dragons could not ascend to the heavens reserved for humans but were instead taken to the red star Zebulpator. Dragons therefore were best treated with red substances; oil of rosewood, turmeric, saffron, and carrot balm were recommended for skin wounds and abrasions.

Dragonboys dismissed all this as airy-fairy absurdity. What worked on wounds and cuts was Old Sugustus's disinfectant.

Even worse were those times that Wiliger read from the expensive little leather volume he carried of Bundt, Bunge, and Bunsome on
Military Practice
. These worthies were insufferable and extremely boring. They exalted spirit and 61an above all else, and exhorted their readers to sacrifice life itself, for the slightest aspect of any campaign.

Such sessions with their leader were difficult, and confined aboard the ship, they had been much harder to avoid than would have been the case even in a fort, much less a campaign up-country.

Their distaste for these empty exercises communicated itself to Wiliger on some level, and he was always ill-tempered after them. However, he continued to give these readings, as if he just had to bang enough Chesler Renkandimo into their brains and they would come around and love him and become the perfect dragonboys he hoped they would be.

Relkin sighed. They all sensed that Wiliger was not inherently malicious, simply unstable. He might be as brave as a lion one moment and completely terrified the next. Under the stress of combat, Wiliger had performed modestly enough. However, it had to be remembered that in the crisis, he had been willing to listen to mere dragonboys and to take heed from their warnings. This gave Relkin hope. As far as Relkin understood, a good fighting commander had to have the iron in the soul that all combat veterans possessed. It gave them a phlegmatic dourness in battle. No matter what horror passed before their eyes, they continued to fight and to execute their commands.

Relkin hoped that as Wiliger hardened, he would relax his grip and grow into the role of a real dragon leader.

In the meantime they would just have to endure.

He sighed again. If only Eilsa were with them, somehow. The way it had been in the campaign in Arneis. To know that she was with them would have made it easy to put up with any amount of grief and stupidity from Wiliger.

Alas, there were years to go before he could retire. If he lived through the upcoming campaign. If he made it through the next battle. There were always too many ifs.

Then he contemplated his retirement plans, and for a moment felt a familiar warm glow. He had constructed a pleasant future for himself.

He and the dragon would retire together, take their allotted free land, one hundred acres on the bottomlands of the River Kalens in eastern Kenor. Eilsa's Clan Wattel would lie just to the south.