Battledragon (46 page)

Behind the tubes a command was given, men touched slow-burning matches to small holes in the upper side of the tubes, and a moment later there was a great bellowing roar and the scene of battle was lost in a cloud of smoke as the enemy fired another deadly volley of iron right into the back of its own forces.

But the iron that cut through imps and trolls also struck the legions, and with deadly force at such close range. Relkin saw something decapitate the troll that Bazil was engaged with, and that same something flew on and killed a bowman notching an arrow some ten feet to the right. Other things flew all around him, humming like arrows. Men sank to the ground, horses fell screaming, and dragons, too, went down with groans of agony.

Some units were hit harder than others. There wasn't much left of the Kadein 92nd, and this volley completed their destruction as the last brasshide fell alongside the remaining two leatherbacks. In the 109th, Aulay was slain, and the Purple Green was wounded in the thigh.

Everywhere you looked there was slaughter and terrible, inexplicable death. With cold fury Relkin slew an imp that had survived like himself and was still showing signs of fight.

He saw Wiliger, holding up a hand that dripped blood while someone tried to bandage it up. The dragon leader's face was ashen, but at the same time lit by an inner fire Relkin recognized.

And then Relkin was moving on between the great tubes, and the men there were fleeing as Bazil Broketail cut at them with the gleaming white steel of Ecator. Alongside the broketail were the others, Alsebra, old Chektor, even Vlok, and their swords made short work of anyone that stood in their path.

The legions swept the entire area clear of the enemy and halted. A sense of common exhaustion filtered through the army. They had come a long way, through excruciating tension and horror, and finally they had routed an enemy force. Most important of all, they had captured the enemy weapons.

A thin cheer went up from the victors, most of whom were still busy killing imps and clearing out pockets of resistance.

They had won the day, or so it seemed. Except that the cost had been catastrophic. The army had been beheaded. General Steenhur had died in that final, terrible fusillade. As much as two-thirds of the dragon force was dead or incapacitated. The Czardhans had been annihilated, and the legions cut to pieces. It was a small, grim-faced force that occupied the hill and began to turn its attention to its wounded.

It was still early in the morning. The sun was only now beginning to grow warm. The legions stood on the ridge crest and stared at the things they had captured, the weapons that had done such terrible damage. Blackened by smoke, the tubes sat on their heavy carriages like so many burned offerings to the gods of war.

Commander Voolward, now acting commanding officer, was huddled around a folding table with Major Herte and Commander Flades of the Cunfshon Legion. They had captured the objective, but their small army had taken terrible casualties. Half of the command was dead or incapacitated.

Shortly the commanders were joined by Prince Ard Elac of Kassim and the Count of Felk-Habren. The count had been in some fierce fighting and bore a fresh wound on his forehead.

The count asked the whereabouts of the witch woman and was told that Lessis was with the engineers, seeking a method to destroy the tubes.

Felk-Habren laughed bitterly at that. "Maybe we should keep these things; they are more powerful than we are upon a battlefield." Then he stared at the map spread on the table, covered in notations in Baxander's fine hand.

"General Baxander will be much missed among the knights of Czardha. He was a good man, we mourn him."

"As do we, Count."

"You will have to work very hard to fill his place."

Voolward pursed his lips. This was not news to him. Baxander had been a fanatical worker, one reason why they had come so far with so little trouble.

"The witch comes," said Commander Flades.

Lessis rode up, accompanied by Lagdalen and the chief engineer, Absalt of Andiquant. Lessis kept to the background while Absalt explained what needed to be done. Pits were to be dug in front of each of the tubes. Then they would be packed with blasting powder and the mouth of the tube sealed. When sealed, they would be tipped over until their mouths pointed down into the pits. Dirt would be packed over them, and finally a volunteer would light the torch hole and run for his life.

"What will happen?" said Count Felk-Habren, whose eyes kept returning to the wan face of the witch. She was hiding herself, he thought, and he wondered if she felt guilty for this butchery she'd unleashed. It was because of the witches that they had come to this hellish place. Come to die. All the fine young men of Czardha, lying out there ripped to pieces. A lump formed in the count's throat.

"The explosion will be trapped within the tube," said Absalt. "It should burst the metal. That will ruin them. They will be useless."

Felk-Habren nodded; his somber eyes sought out Lessis. She looked away.

"By the Hand, how are we to turn such things onto their ends?" said Voolward, who had been much impressed by the sheer mass of the huge tubes.

"If we dig a large enough pit in front of each one, it will be easy enough. Discharging them will be the hazardous job. It will require volunteers."

"Why so?" said the count.

"The tubes will explode most forcefully, Count. Anyone close by will be killed."

"The power in these things is so strong. I wonder if we should not keep them. Let us learn to use them and do to the enemy what he has done to us. Most piteous damage he has done."

Count Felk-Habren broke down for a moment. "Such good knights we have lost," he said in a bitter voice. "Brave men, great fighters, men who would throw themselves into this great expedition with no thought of reward except in honor! Now we shall honor their graves!"

Somehow, it did not seem at all odd to see this huge, ferocious man openly weeping.

Lessis heard him, but in truth she was distracted by her fears. These were the first, crude weapons from the path of power, and they had shown themselves to be monstrously deadly. And yet, as she had been told, these weapons were so primitive that those that would come after them, their descendants, would make these seem almost harmless. The count's expressed desire to wield the weapons was what she most feared. Now this secret was out. To keep it suppressed would become more difficult.

Voolward broke in to end the silence afforded the count's tears for his fallen comrades.

"First we need some kalut, perhaps some food. Where are the cooks?"

"They're on their way, sir," said Captain Keeven, now the eldest member of the support staff.

"Some hot kalut, some food, and we'll get digging."

"Transportation teams are coming forward. The question is where are we to take the wounded?"

Voolward contemplated the surrounding terrain. They stood on the crest of a low hill with long, flat slopes all about. Back the way they had come, through the volcanic boulder field, lay other smooth sloped ridges. Ahead were more of the same. To the west lay some smaller forested features. Small hills arranged in a line north south.

Voolward indicated the hills to the west and ordered scouts to investigate them for possible campsites.

Kalut was brewed and distributed along with hot bread and pickles and akh. About an hour after the capture of the guns, the first pits were begun.

The wounded were gathered in, then loaded onto the ox trains, and sent westward under cavalry guard.

Not long afterward the scouts out to the north brought reports of enemy activity. A large force of Kraheen had been reorganized and was moving south to engage. This force shortly crested the next ridgeline to the north of them and spread itself out in a long attacking line.

The digging was hastened. The Kraheen moved forward, their uluations rising into the warming air of the day. Within minutes they were engaged, and the space around the embattled legions was filled with a howling multitude. Arrows flicked in from the hovering mass, which hesitated to close with the legion survivors, now set in double lines, with dragons at the corners for a defensive square. Such a line bristled with death.

The digging, however, was slowed by the need to defend against the Kraheen. Still it continued, and the Kraheen could do no more than threaten and harass with archery.

Thus the situation stabilized and persisted for several hours. The Kraheen hordes remained at the limits of bow shot, surrounding the legions and avoiding close contact. The sun rode through the high part of its arc, and the digging continued unabated. What they removed from the pits was used to build up a parapet around the position. While the pits were dug, the tubes were packed with the explosive powder and sealed with wet mud. Eventually the pits were deepened enough for Absalt to signal for the tubes to be tipped forward by a team of dragons.

They had barely begun this task when they heard that dreadful sound again, a distant booming thud. There came another and then several more. To the north, perhaps a mile, they saw a cloud of smoke shoot up. The enemy had brought up another set of his terrible weapons.

Lessis put her hand to her mouth. Too late, too late, came the cry whispering in her heart. All would fall to ruin, the work of centuries by her order would be lost. And with the work would be lost another world.

The enemy showed scant regard for their own troops. There was nothing unusual in this. Projectiles fell among the Kraheen and skipped across the barren plain like terrible bowls from some game of giants until they either exploded against rock or disappeared into the distance. Either way their effect on the Kraheen was dramatic. Amid a collective wail of fright, several dozen were slain while most of the rest withdrew at high speed. Avenues opened up in the circling masses.

Voolward saw the opportunity and set things in motion at once.

Volunteers, the first dozen who had managed to get their names in the hat, gathered by the tubes. Among them were several dragonboys, including Relkin of Quosh.

Relkin was still a little puzzled by his decision to volunteer for this. He'd been in the legions long enough to know that you never volunteered for anything because sure as hell it was going to come around to you anyway. He wasn't the sort to go volunteering for death or glory missions. He'd had quite enough death and glory shoved his way by the gods, or the Great Mother, or all of them combined.

And yet there was an anger burning inside him lit by the loss of so many comrades to this new weapon of the enemy. He wanted to destroy them.

Jak had volunteered, too, and was standing there with a suspiciously large pack on his back. Then Relkin noticed the pack move, and the tip of something trunk-like showed through. He grinned happily at the younger boy. Trust Jak to weigh himself down with potential trouble in a situation like this!

The second volley from the enemy bellowed to the north. This time the balls landed much closer to the legions; a few skipped overhead. Everyone ducked, including the dragons, and cursed the damned things.

Voolward ordered everyone to hurry. They had to take advantage of this situation. There were openings in the Kraheen hordes on the west. Out there beyond the Kraheen foot soldiers were the legion cavalry, engaged with the Kraheen horse. If he could break out of the ring, then he would have some protection in a foot race for the western hills. Once on one of those hills, he could set up defense again.

Unless, he realized, with a deadly chill, the enemy brought up those tubes once more. That would place them in a deadly race. He would have to keep retreating, staying ahead of the enemy, and outpacing the deadly tubes.

But with so many wounded to carry, including wounded dragons, their progress would be slow. Perhaps the enemy would be able to match it, and they would never escape these terrible bombardments.

Voolward swallowed, his mind confused for a moment with dreadful portents. By the Mother's Hand, he thought to himself, panic was the most destructive force on any battlefield. He pulled himself together. It was up to him now; he had to bring the small army out of this.

They could not stay where they were.

The cornets blew. The men readied themselves, and when the command came, they formed up and headed west, dragons in the center. Behind they left the twelve volunteers, gathered around a crackling fire.

The enemy's third volley was fired, and for the most part it missed them, overshooting a little. Everyone crouched down as the air above them was filled with the urgent sounds of the great balls whipping past. A second or so later they could be glimpsed ricocheting away across the distant plain, and disappearing over the ridge to the south. A couple, however, landed short and skipped through the ranks of the legions, killing another eight men and wounding three.

The comets blew once more, and the legions moved into a quicker step, abandoning the ridgeline and getting down below the line of sight of those manning the enemy weapons.

When the legions were some two hundred yards distant, the Kraheen began to trickle closer from eastward.

The small ring of volunteers watched nervously as the Kraheen approached.

"Light your tapers," said young Lieutenant Jeeks of the Pennar Third Regiment.

Relkin and Jak lit their tapers, then ran to their assigned tubes, fortunately placed adjacent to each other. At the command they pressed the smoldering tapers to the touch holes. Jak's took, as did everyone else's except Relkin's. Relkin's taper had blown out.

Everyone was running for their lives, except Relkin, and little Jak, who was tugging at his sleeve.

"Leave it, come on, Relkin."

The Kraheen were pressing in now on the position. They would be on them in moments.

Relkin pushed Jak away.

"Run," he said. "I will stay."

Little Jak looked at him amazed for a moment and then threw himself into a small hollow in the ground. Relkin followed a split second later.

The Kraheen were just yards away.