Battledragon (44 page)

"Indeed," agreed Steenhur. "They hold heights overlooking a long slope. If we attack, we will have to fight up-slope and cross a broad field of fire for their archers."

"Whereas if we sit on the defensive…"

"They outnumber us. They will maneuver down those side slopes, seek to envelop us."

"Some have found it is a mistake to envelop a legion army."

"True, though that has usually been an army with more than two legions."

"We have worthy allies. A good force. Eighty dragons."

Baxander shook his head. "To keep the initiative, we should attack."

"Should we risk the casualties of an attack? How long will this campaign last? We need to husband our forces."

"The witches say it will be a short campaign. This may be the only real battle. The Kraheen have only recently become a warlike nation. They are fierce fighters, but their formations are crude, they fight in a disorganized way. If we strike them now, pitch into them, and knock them away from their prepared positions, we may panic them. They will not dare to take the field again."

Steenhur nodded. "I am sure you are right, sir. I only propose the alternatives for the sake of argument. We must consider all the possibilities."

"Yes, of course, you are absolutely right. They are too far away to make an attack today. We will rest tonight and leave early in the morning. By dawn I want to launch our assault, right at their center."

They awoke when it was still dark. The camp was astir despite the hour. Horsemen thundered by in small groups as they moved out to their mustering.

"So we fight today, eh boy?"

"We fight."

"Good. It is time. We have been traveling forever. Now we get it over with and then can rest."

Bazil took down his great sword and examined it carefully. The white steel was flawless, a magic blade and a terrifying weapon. At times he could almost feel the personality that inhabited the blade. It was fierce and merciless and eager to drink the blood of servants of the Great Enemy. Holding it always gave him strength. He took out the whetstone and passed it a few times across the edges. In truth, it was already as sharp as it could be.

Relkin rolled out the empty cauldrons from breakfast.

"Rest," he muttered to himself. "When does a dragonboy get a rest?" Dragon Leader Wiliger had been riding him hard lately. Sometimes it seemed he was not supposed to sleep at all.

Cornets shrilled, orders were barked. Men began to assemble now that breakfast was done. The army believed in fighting on a full stomach.

From the Czardhan camp came the distinctive note of their bugles. From the Kassimi section of camp came a light rattle of drums.

Soon Wiliger appeared, and a few minutes later the squadron formed up and marched out. Ahead marched the Kadein 92nd, led by Dragon Leader Jendenter. Behind them came the Bea 34th, led by Dragoneer Duart.

All dragons wore full battle kit, including breastplate and vambrace, and they carried their big shields over their backs.

Outside the camp the land was hushed under dew. The order was to march as quietly as possible. Conversation was hushed. Thus there was just the clank of metal and the rhythmic tread of men and dragons as they progressed through the dark. The way was lit, but barely, by a series of dark lanterns, which could only be seen from one direction.

Cloud cover obscured the stars while a soft, warm wind blew steadily across the line of march from the land to the Inland Sea.

The dragons were happy enough. The air was still cool, and they appreciated that, considering that they were marching in full armor. They swung along as steadily as any well-drilled squad of men. Among them was a general desire to close with the enemy. The nature of the wyvern dragon was naturally combative, and having made this vast journey, they were eager to get to grips.

After almost an hour of marching, the first faint light of the sun began to tinge the eastern sky. They found themselves passing between massive volcanic boulders up a gently sloping ridgeline. Before they reached the top, they halted and deployed into a short battle line. The 109th Marneri were set directly behind the Kadein 92nd. On their left were a regiment of Bakani pikemen. On their right were troops of the Kadein legion. The double ranking of dragon units meant they were going to attack. Dragonboys immediately checked their dragons' feet. But after the weeks of marching the wyverns were hardened and ready, though that could hardly satisfy a dragonboy.

Relkin nudged Swane as he went past.

"Good luck, Swane, don't get whacked by the tail."

"You watch out yourself, Quoshite."

Wiliger hissed for them to be silent.

And so they stood still, each locked within himself in contemplation of the coming fight. Relkin thought of Eilsa, far away in the land of the Wattels. He imagined her with her long hair flying, riding one of the little Wattel ponies across the high bek. How he wished he were with her, if only to spend one more day. A little guiltily he then offered prayers to the old gods and to the Great Mother, continuing his policy of seeking all the help he could find.

Bazil thought of his young, the winged dragons Grener and Braner, who dwelt even farther away than Wattel Bek and which he would never see again in this life, no matter what happened on the field of battle. Bazil did not fear the coming struggle. It was unlikely^there would be trolls to face. Yet, it was still good to know that a part of him would live on no matter what happened.

The strengthening light revealed the Czardhan cavalry drawn up nearby on the left in two lines. With their steel armor agleam and their bright flags and pennons aflutter, they made a brave sight. Along the front of the army, keeping below the ridgeline, messengers galloped to and from the central command. These were the only interruptions in the view of the barren ridgeline, dotted with chunks of rock.

They waited for half an hour or so and then a messenger ran down the line passing instructions to the dragon leaders. Wiliger turned to them with a gleam in his eye, and then with a shout of command they went forward at the march step.

They went up the slope of the ridgeline, dodging around the larger chunks of lava. Then they reached the low crest and came into view of a wide shallow valley with a long slope ahead leading up to a low prominence.

"There they are," said someone, and they all looked up and saw a dark mass clumped along the side of the prominence. The enemy was in view at last!

They had a fair distance to march, perhaps a mile, perhaps more, and all in the open. The enemy would have perhaps twenty minutes to pull himself together and prepare to receive their attack.

One thing in their favor perhaps was the sheer size of the Kraheen horde. The dark mass straggled along the prominence for half a mile at least. There were tens of thousands of them up there.

The cornets shrilled and on they went, marching steadily through the stone-strewn landscape, keeping to their formation as rigidly as possible. Bazil had the Purple Green on his right, Alsebra on his left. Vlok was beyond Alsebra and Chektor was on the other side of the Purple Green.

Relkin looked around himself and felt a surge of pride. Here was the flower of the empire in irresistible motion with banners flying and every arm of the military service in action. Moreover Relkin knew that he belonged to the very heart of the legions, the Dragon Corps, the cutting edge of the legion sword. And he felt his heart swell further when he looked along their line. What a grand sight the dragons made, huge, grim towers of sinew and steel, with their sword hilts rising above their shoulders like a row of steel crosses as they strode on with that peculiar predatory lope unique to the wyvern kind. And around them went dragonboys in the blue of Mameri or the grey-green of Kadein and Bea. Even Dragon Leader Wiliger cut a fine figure, striding at the rear, his comet tucked under his arm, his jaw jutting forth, his cap set perfectly on his head, and his regulationary cap badge gleaming in the dawn light. Dragon Leader Wiliger had come a long way, Relkin decided. They had to try and get along with him, live and let live. Relkin felt full of generous notions.

They crossed a small stream that wound across the plain. Some wild goats were running away to the left. The Czardhans, walking their horses forward, gave a cheer at the sight of the white rumps bouncing away.

They passed out of the belt of large stones and now they could make out clearly the frenzied activity in the enemy's lines. Men moving in disorganized groups, spears waving in masses above their heads. Shouts, drumming, even screams, echoed from the top of the slope.

A small group of enemy horsemen approached the advancing line. Burly bowmen ran up between the dragons and tried a few ranging shots. One of the enemy toppled from his horse. The rest withdrew at a gallop.

On they went, dressing out to the right under Wiliger's eye as they came out of the confinement of the large boulders. Throughout they were keeping their line as straight as possible, aligned with the second rank of legionaries on their right

The Bakani pikemen on the left were also reforming. And now they moved up the slope smoothly together. They would soon be in arrow range. The bowmen were coming up from behind to begin their covering fire.

General Baxander rode beside Lessis, with General Steenhur a short distance away. A messenger rode in from Count Felk-Habren. The knights were ready to charge, just give the order.

The enemy front was disorganized. Once they closed, Baxander was certain his army would cut through the bigger host like a hot knife through butter.

"We have them, Lady. I think we actually surprised them by closing so soon."

"You doubt that they will stand!"

"They know they cannot do that. Not against legions equipped with dragon forces. Look at them, they're trying to launch an attack of their own, they want their force to meet us with some impetus behind it. They know that ill-disciplined troops will not put up a good defense."

"So their attack will meet ours head on."

"And disintegrate. It will be poorly organized, almost chaotic. We shall let them break up on our front and then send in the Czardhans to cut them in half."

"I pray that they break and run, and that the casualties will be few in number. There is too much bloodshed in the air here." Lessis stared up at the enemy lines. There was no sign of the weapons Ribela had told her to fear. Then again, Ribela had also warned her that the weapons would not necessarily be visible. They might be hidden and at a considerable distance from the rest of the fighting. Lessis felt that great fear again. They risked so much here, and they absolutely had to win!

A few minutes later the enemy's front dissolved as an order to attack blared from their trumpets and the Kraheen streamed toward them, screaming the name of their Prophet as they came.

"Ajoth Gol Dib!" went the cry, again and again, like a susurration of death. Relkin watched as Kraheen men with white and brown shields came rushing toward them. They bounded forward at full speed, leaping over stones with their long shields in the air.

Arrows were arching over in greater and greater numbers. Bazil's helmet rang as one struck the very top. Then he swung his shield up for cover and soon it was studded with a dozen or more. Relkin ducked back behind the dragon, his own shield raised. A bowman stopped beside him and fired. The range was still too great for his own bow.

The dragons drew dragonsword and held them on their shoulders. On came the enemy spearmen. Now! They were in range. Relkin slung his shield, pulled his bow around from his other shoulder, and took careful aim at a fellow running straight for Baz with his mouth open in a long ululating cry. Relkin fired; his arrow stuck on the man's shield. Other dragonboy arrows flicked out. Kraheen stumbled and went down here and there. Relkin knelt by a rock and steadied his bow. The onrushing warrior was still screaming the name of the Prophet. Relkin released and saw his arrow suddenly stand out of the man's shoulder.

It hardly slowed him, perhaps a step. With a renewed shriek he spun and came on, still eager for battle. Behind him came dozens more.

Relkin's mouth was dry as he fumbled a third shaft into the bow. These were true fanatics. The dragon was getting settled. Ecator came down off Baz's shoulder.

And then, very suddenly, the two forces came together and battle was joined. It was a wildly disparate struggle. The Kraheen had enormous numbers, but they remained a force of lightly armed tribesmen. Their superb cavalry was occupied far off on the flanks, dueling with the legion troopers and the Kassimi. This left them with a single style of attack to throw at the oncoming legions.

Still, they came on with a fanatical rush and maintained this even against the dragons, where they sought to get close enough to wield their spears against dragonhides.

Unfortunately for the Kraheen warriors, the dragons were well trained to prevent such efforts. Dragonswords moved in steady, slaughterous curves, humming through die air and cutting down die brave but foolhardy men that came against them. In frustration, many Kraheen threw their spears from a distance of forty or fifty feet, but they had little success. Most were absorbed on dragon shield or deflected by armor. However, a few spears did damage and one or two dragons were forced to pull out of the line. Their places were taken immediately while dragonboys and surgeons worked on the wounded wyverns.

Against the men of the legions, the Kraheen had little more success. They piled up against the legion front, where they engaged with spear against sword and shield. As they fought, they faced a rain of arrows and javelins thrown from behind the frontline soldiers. The Kraheen compressed themselves along the line, and soon their bodies began to pile up there, and their charge lost impetus. Within half an hour they were exhausted, and the attack petered out.

The legion was itself in attack mode, and as the Kraheen began to ebb back, so the men and the dragons went forward, sweeping away stragglers and accelerating the Kraheen movement toward a rout. The vast Kraheen horde wavered dangerously.