Battledragon (25 page)

The fruit sellers' teeth gleamed whitely against their chocolate skins; their eyes flashed; they seemed intensely alive. Relkin was dazzled. This was a moment he would savor, his first arrival on another continent after a voyage of eight thousand miles.

Now came larger canoes carrying teams of drummers who beat out a massive welcoming thunder.

Semi-naked women performed a sinuous, writhing dance in the prows of these larger canoes.

Dragonboys exchanged looks. It looked like this was going to be an interesting place, after all, no matter what the strictures from the dragon leader.

Oh, to set foot on the alien strand! They were filled with a terrible longing for the shore.

The afternoon hours wore by with terrible slowness thereafter as they waited for the envoys to return, and then for more boats to go ashore with officers and forward units, like the engineers, to get things ready for disembarkation.

While they waited, they fed the dragons and fed themselves and tried some of the tropical fruit they'd purchased.

The word came down that there would be no pause, no interruption in the disembarkation, which would go on through the night. Evening boil-up would take place on both ship and shore. They would begin marching out of Sogosh at first light.

Of course, that provoked the question of where they were going. To this there was no answer as yet. Rumor had it they were marching directly upriver. That they wouldn't even get to spend a day in Sogosh.

Where were they going?

Upriver. Into the interior. Into the heart of Eigo, the dark continent.

Large, flat-bottomed barges emerged from the harbor. Some of these were propelled by doubled banks of oars driven by sweating oarsmen. Naturally, these soon outstripped the rest and reached the ships.

Cornets were shrilling and commands rang out as the disembarkation began in earnest.

From here on it was steady work as almost twelve thousand men, a thousand horses, and eighty dragons were moved from ship to shore. With them went supplies of everything an army needs in the field, from canvas to wheat, from kalut beans to iron and charcoal.

The first ashore were infantry, then the cavalry, and finally the dragons. This meant that the dragons spent the night on the ships and did not begin to move until late the next morning. By then their impatience had grown dangerous. This time it was the Purple Green who nearly fell while clambering down
Barley's
side to the barge. If he'd fallen into the barge, he would have gone right through the fragile timbers.

Before they disembarked, Wiliger insisted on one last inspection. Everyone had a complete kit, and every item was in gleaming shape if it was able to be polished.

Bazil, Vlok, and the Purple Green rode in one barge. They crouched amidships, in a line, and did their best not to step too much in any direction since their weight tended to unbalance the barge.

The sun beat down mercilessly from an empty sky. The dragonboys threw pails of water over their dragons to cool them a little. Green-striped domes rose above the walls of a waterside palace.

Other watercraft piled past them, and the dragons received astonished glances, shrieks of fear, and wild avoidance of the barge. Collisions grew more frequent as they progressed into the inner harbor, which was crowded with small craft.

As they drew closer, they saw squads of legionaries forming up and marching away past a row of warehouses. Then they were tying up alongside, and an especially heavy-duty gangway was thrust across the barge's side. Moving cautiously, the dragons stepped onto the dock and then to the land.

Relkin stepped ashore with a little prayer to the old gods for luck. The unknown continent accepted him and brought with it a whiff of spice, something exotic, something corrupt!

There was a whirl of activity around them. Hundreds of black faces, porters with white pantaloons and red hats, fruit sellers, and the merely curious who gaped while dragonboys pulled together their gear, loaded up the dragons, and then took up their own heavy packs and fell in, ready to march. Cornets wailed up and down the docks as various units assembled themselves.

A steady stream of wagons laden with stores and equipment rolled past. Riding on each were two legionaries to make sure that nothing was stolen. All this equipment was precious, irreplaceable material carried eight thousand miles across the world. General Baxander had ordered that maximum care be given to all legion equipment. They were on their own here, even farther away than old Paxion had been during the siege of Ourdh.

Wiliger put in an appearance, and soon the orders came down for them to march and away they went, falling behind a company of legionaries from the Bea legion. They marched down the dockside, past cheerful, brightly colored crowds to an open square with a monument in its center. Everyone seemed to wear white trousers, skirts, or pantaloons. Most men wore conical red hats.

The monument turned out to be a pillar with a larger-than-life stone head atop it. This, they were told, was the Kwa Hulo, the Lionhearted King of Og Bogon, the Suzerain of Sogosh, Choulaput the Great.

Relkin observed a well-formed face, stern of expression, with a prominent chin and a wide fleshy nose. There was something in the set of that chin and the incipient frown of the eyebrows that was intimidating.

They turned and marched through the city, up a long slow incline, past solidly constructed buildings of two and three stories, all covered in stucco of varying shades of freshness and whiteness.

Farther up the slope there were large houses with trees and gardens. Here the crowds thinned considerably. Small knots of men with spears and long shields stood guard at the gates of some of these larger places. A few riders were abroad wearing colorful silks, white pantaloons, and tall, round hats, usually red. Women wore loose-fitting, white tunics and robes.

In these suburbs the trees became so thick that it was virtually like marching through a palm forest, with occasional patches of enormous ginkgo trees that thrust up far above all others.

To the dismay of all the dragonboys, who'd been hoping for a night on the town, they left behind even the suburbs of Sogosh. Outside, they passed neat fields, where men labored with donkey and ox. Small villages of one-story adobe brick houses with orange-tile roofs dotted the way.

Atop a ridgeline with a view of Sogosh and the harbor spread out below, they halted for a quick meal of bread, onions, akh, and sausage purchased in Sogosh, then they resumed the march. Shortly before dusk, they reached the site of General Baxander's armed camp.

Going by the book, Baxander had determined to build himself a fort as soon as he was able. The site was a fallow field that had been purchased in advance by agents of the Empire of the Rose. Permission had been granted by the Lord Tagut of Sogosh, who was under orders from the king to do nothing to impede the Argonathi.

The place was already well on its way to being a fortress. A ditch had been dug around it and staked against cavalry. Above stood a three-foot berm into which six-foot logs were being set to form a complete stockade. Engineers had completed the layout of the interior with rows of tents for both men and dragons, latrines, cookhouses, and woodpiles. The front gate would eventually have sixteen-foot towers and a drawbridge all fashioned from local wood with the addition of timbers and parts brought from the Argonath. Men, horses, and dragons were still working in a blaze of activity.

They were allocated a couple of large, square tents, partitioned into stalls, and the 109th took a moment to rest their feet. Then, summoned by the cookshack bell, dragonboys returned with basins of noodles slathered in akh while a wagon brought beer for the dragons.

The dragons ate and drank heartily, and were refreshed. When asked to put in time on the construction, they rose willingly enough and went down to help set up the timber stockade.

Dragon Leader Wiliger had settled himself in a small one-man tent nearby rather than taking a space in the big dragon tents. To help him settle in, he had little Shutz and Endi move things around for him. Relkin took the opportunity to slip away to explore the camp before he could be roped into anything. Bazil was working in a gang, deepening the ditch; he couldn't need anything until his stint was done.

Relkin found the smith's bellows going and the forge already hot. Baxander was having spare swords beaten out and sharpened. There was an unmistakable sense of urgency throughout the camp. Wagons rumbled past in a continuous stream before parking in long rows down the center of the camp. Smoke rose above the cauldrons and griddles of a row of large cookshacks. Here he noticed a line of tall, well-formed men, with long blond hair flowing free. They wore chain mail, woolen leggings thonged and strapped with red leather, and boots cut just above the ankle. At their hips they carried short swords and knives.

Relkin realized that these were Czardhans, clearly in a good mood. They'd been drinking beer, and they were chaffering each other in Demmener, one of the most common Czardhan languages. It sounded curiously hard and guttural to Relkin's ears, used to the more silken tones of Verio. Could these coarse, though genial, fellows be knights? Relkin wasn't entirely sure.

Then a party of men on enormous horses came by. Relkin sucked in a breath, for these were undoubtedly knights, encased in gleaming steel and white silk tunics with a medley of colorful signs and images on the breast.

Their helmets were massive and squared off at .the top. Most of them had their helms up, and what he could see of their faces suggested large-boned men with blue eyes and hair the color of straw.

So these were the knights, the others were foot soldiers. Relkin pursed his lips, wondering how well they fought together. Relkin knew that most cavalry performed wretchedly against dragons in close-quarter action. Horses could hardly be made to approach dragons in the first place. Riders were placed conveniently for a smooth stroke of the dragonsword. The result was usually butchery.

But without dragon support, it would be a different matter. Legion infantry had many tactics for dealing with cavalry, of course. Archery was usually effective, and staking a position was often enough to keep cavalry at a safe distance.

Still Relkin preferred that these impressive steel-clad knights were on his side in the coming campaign.

The knights rode on into an encampment of their own, within the legion camp. The orderly succession of white, rectangular legion tents suddenly gave way to a jumble of large striped tents, colorful awnings, and marquees. Strings of horses were tethered outside, and to Relkin's stunned eyes, there were women among the camp workers.

As Relkin drew closer, he noticed a sour smell in the air. The place stank due to inadequate sanitation practices. A huge pile of manure was being shoved into place by some Eigoan workers hired for the task. The Czardhans, it seemed, declined to dig proper latrines or to take care of the consequences of stabling their mounts outside their tents.

A pair of buxom young Eigoan women, dark-skinned beauties wearing bright yellow saris strode past, throwing a haughty look in his direction.

Relkin smiled; a year or so ago he would have blushed. Now he simply admired their muscular, firm figures.

He was bumped from behind, and turned to find a group of Czardhan foot soldiers pushing past.

"Watch where you're going," he complained.

One of the footmen turned on him. "And who are you?" said a blond giant in strongly accented Verio.

"Dragoneer Relkin, 109th Marneri."

"Ah, a lizard keeper!" The man turned to his fellows and yelled something in his own rough tongue.

They gathered around Relkin, and there was a lot of jesting at his expense, but since he couldn't understand a word of it Relkin took no offense. He thought the Czardhans were pretty amusing, too, but he was heavily outnumbered here.

"I hope we can fight together well," he said carefully to the one that had addressed him in Verio.

"Don't worry," said the big man. "We are here to protect you and your old lizards. You'll be safe with us around."

Relkin laughed happily.

"I'll be sure to tell them so. They'll be relieved."

But the blue eyes didn't seem to get the joke.

"You dragonboys had better go home. There will be real fighting here, and we will be too busy protecting your damned lizards to save you, too."

"Oh-ho! So this is going to be an easy war for a change. We'll get to sit back while you fellows take care of the enemy. Sounds wonderful. Wait till I tell everybody."

The Czardhan translated some of this to the others, and they all roared and stamped their feet. Then they tramped off to their tents.

Relkin made his way back to his own tent with images of Eigoan beauties and Czardhan oafs jumbled up in his mind.

While Relkin lay down to sleep beside a dragon uttering thunderous snores, the senior commanders of the expeditionary force were holding a somewhat anxious conference in General Baxander's tent not far away.

Baxander was a bold, aggressive campaigner, as he had proved in several fights with the Teetol. However, he had never commanded such a large army, and the worry of it all was telling on him. The sheer logistical effort of keeping twelve thousand men, their horses, and the dragons fed and in motion was almost overwhelming. His staff had struggled throughout the first day, in part because of inexperience. That the legions had landed smoothly and gotten their gear ashore without any major mishaps was a relief, but ahead loomed a hundred obstacles and months of campaigning on alien ground. The prospect had the young general nervous.

General Steenhur was even younger than Baxander. He had served well in Kenor during the enemy invasion two years before. Now he too was confronting the many pitfalls of such service and the all-consuming anxiety that it could provoke.

He sipped some kalut while he reeled off the latest rumors to reach him.

"First, there is said to be a plague in the bush up-country. Men are dying by the thousands of black boils that erupt all over their bodies. Second, there is a huge enemy force, equipped with magical weapons that enable them to fight at night. Third, the people of Sogosh are about to rise in rebellion against Choulaput, throw in their lot with the enemy, and cut off our rear. And those are all just within the past hour and half! The rumors are beyond reason, it's madness."