Dragon Ultimate (26 page)

The mumbled their fearful assent.

"You will know me as Lapsor. Tomorrow you will reach the designated place."

The Baguti mumbled. Jihj dared to mutter askance.

The Lord Lapsor raised a fist and called again that strange and terrible cry.

"Aah wahn, aah wahn, gasht thrankulu kunj."

A green bolt of fire leaped off the giant's fist and spat across to strike Jihj in the chest. His scream was accompanied by his body tossed backwards ten feet to land in a smoking heap.

The other chieftains exchanged a slow glance.

"Tomorrow you will reach your designated position, or I will burn your souls to dust."

The morning dawned bright and clear over the volcano, with that chill in the air that warned of winter approaching. Dragonboys were among the first up, and tureens of kalut were soon being wheeled to the dragons. Smoke rose by the cook pit, the early-morning wood splitting details were starting up, and the familiar "thwack, thwack, thwack" of mauls on wood soon filled the air. A supply wagon creaked down the line to the cooks' tent. Hollein Kesepton emerged from his tent with his blue blanket over his shoulders in time to grab a big mug of kalut from the passing orderly. All the officers were standing out there, some more dazed than others as they began another punishing day. The generals were keeping them very busy with work. Every sandspit and peninsula would be fortified before they were satisfied, it seemed.

General Urmin appeared, already fully dressed, from the headquarters tent. Hollein had slung the blanket and got into his coat and pulled up his boots by the time Urmin reached him. "Morning, Commander. I trust you got some sleep."

"Yes, sir, the bare minimum. At least that's how it feels."

"It's only going to get worse, it always does. I don't know if we'll ever satisfy the engineers."

"Not possible, sir. No such thing as a satisfied engineer." Urmin smiled, then turned serious. "Kesepton, I've been wanting to ask you something, something sensitive."

"Yes, sir?"

"It's Fesken, I'm worried about him. Does he seem quite himself to you?"

"Well, I don't know him, sir, but he seems fine. I haven't heard of any complaints."

"You've read his report?"

"Yes, sir. Harrowing. Sorcery, sir, and of a high order. You remember that great flash of light while we were at Gideon's? I can't help but think the two events were related. Maybe we were just lucky."

"Sorcery, eh?" Urmin shuddered with loathing. "I suspect you may be right. What they went through might shake any man. Do you think I should send him home? Have him reevaluated?"

Hollein was loath to answer. Fesken's efforts at Gideon's had helped stem the panic and saved many lives. And yet since joining them at Fort Kenor he had been morose, shut up in some inner gloom. It often happened that young officers blamed themselves for casualties, and the Bea Regiment had been hurt at Gideon's. The choice really was whether to jeopardize one man's career, or risk hundreds of men's lives if their commander came to pieces in the heat of battle. Being an officer of similar rank to Fesken and well aware of the pressures that came with active combat, Hollein hated the choices.

Before he was forced to commit himself, there came a welcome interruption. A short cornet shriek from the watchtower announced a rider. Men were in motion pulling back the gates. Two riders came thundering in, then pulled up sharply. One ran to the headquarters tent to deliver his message to General Tregor while the other held their horses, both blowing hard and sweating after their ride.

Cornets blew immediately, and kept blowing as units were called straight to parade formation. In full battle regalia they marched out soon afterward, without even their breakfasts straight down the road to the Oon. Ahead of them went the two riders, on fresh mounts, with messages for the officers at the front.

The news filtered down. The enemy was making straight for the shallows below Crescent Island. Baguti cavalry had already crossed the river in several places. More Baguti on their steppe ponies had already crossed the Argo and were operating in the rear. They were at the center of a huge coordinated attack that was aiming for a double envelopment of the Legion's flanks while their center was held in place by repeated attack.

"It's exactly what I'd do if I had their numbers, and they had mine," rumbled Tregor as he studied the maps with his staff.

Tregor had less than five thousand horse and would be hard-pressed in a cavalry engagement. What he had included the great Red Rose Regiment from Cunfshon, the two-thousand-strong core of the Red Rose Legion itself. But not even the Red Rose Regiment could be expected to defeat twenty times its own strength on the battlefield.

In his favor was the fact that the enemy customarily misused the wild nomad cavalry, distrusting its anarchic shortcomings. Still, the numbers were daunting on all fronts. The current estimate of the horde approaching the river crossing was thirty thousand imp, two hundred troll. There was even a party of ten ogres, the enormous ultratrolls bred from tormented mammoths. That was almost twice the size of the force under Tregor's command. Then there were the Baguti. The northern force came from the Irrim tribes of the near Gan. The estimates were of perhaps fifteen thousand riders. Those to the south had come from the far west and were Baguti of unknown tribes. The estimate was that their strength was about ten thousand.

Fortunately the southern force was also cut off by trackless bogs and quaking sands. It would take them days to affect the southern flank, or at least so Tregor hoped. He also hoped that his flank forces could slow the Baguti long enough to let him deal with the main thrust across the river by the horde of imp.

The Oon River had wide flats on either side, culminating in dunes farther back. The 109th, along with the 145th and the Bea 77th, were set out in a fortified line dug down behind the dunes, with a staked barricade along the top. They were hungry, but dragonboys soon appeared with carts full of big flat loaves of bread. Dragons tore into the meal hungrily. They were hot under the bright sun, and uncomfortable in full armor. They had been allowed to remove their helmets, which were stacked with their shields, but wearing many huge pieces of metal hooked to the joboquin was inherently hot on a sunny day.

Still, it was good to have something to eat, even if there wasn't enough akh. They washed the bread down with pails of water fetched from the river by bustling dragonboys, who were working especially hard since many of them were taking care of two dragons. Relkin went down to the river three times before he'd satisfied both the thirsty wyverns.

Each time he went down to the water's edge, he observed that the smudge marking the enemy's horde had deepened and darkened on the far side of the Oon. The enemy had also made an appearance on Crescent Island, a low green feature slightly upstream. Imps and trolls became visible on its shore.

The catapults erected by the engineers started to fire at the trolls on Crescent Island, and after a couple of spectacular hits from hurtling nine-foot-long spears, all trolls were removed to safety behind adequate cover. Dirt was flying on the island from many shovels, and men in black could be seen in the spyglass as they went about erecting their own catapults. Shortly thereafter, catapults from the island began seeking the range of the defensive line. With a clatter heavy, ten-foot spears began to strike the stakes of the stockaded barricade. The dragons were urged to keep down as an occasional spear burst through a weak spot in the stockade.

Tregor frowned. He had not expected such expert catapult work. The enemy had improved their battlecraft since the last major conflict.

The rest of that day passed in a duel of catapults, with huge spears flashing over the heads of either side as they crouched behind cover. The Legion crouched behind well-prepared barricades, however, while the Padmasans were far more exposed. The Argonathi catapult crews took a toll on their opponents.

That night cookfires blazed high behind the lines, and a huge boil-up was distributed to the men and dragons along with some legion weakbeer. This improved everyone's spirits by the time they turned in. Tents had been pitched during the afternoon, and the place was quickly becoming a proper Legion camp.

The enemy's camp was visible as a line of distant fires, etched along the horizon. There were also a few fires on Crescent Island, but these were hidden as much as possible, for the Legion catapults were quick to home in on any fire within range.

A strong watch was set, and the flank forces were instructed to be particularly vigilant. Excused watch, dragons and their dragonboys slept soundly.

Meanwhile, General Tregor and his senior commanders were gathered in the general's tent, confronting potential problems. Tregor pointed to the large map spread on the table.

"The Irrim tribes have crossed the Argo up here at Poot's Point. They have about fifteen thousand effectives and can either swing down to blanket Fort Kenor behind us or try to envelop our flank. However, to get on our flank they will have to pass through three choke points, two of which we have fortified and can defend quite easily; here at Brownwater Lagoon and here at the neck of land at the bottom of Falze Bay. That's the only way for horses to get through the swamp there. Provided we can hold them on those lines, we can continue to hold this position."

"Won't the enemy come around by the Military Road, sir?" Commander Lenshwingel had raised his hand early.

"Most likely, and they will have to be met in the swamp and stopped. Probably at Angle Pond."

"Which we fortified years ago," said Lenshwingel, a young know-it-all out of the Marneri Military Academy who had been suddenly promoted after the plagues and given command of the Marneri Fourth Regiment, First Legion. "The ditch is ten feet deep now, and the stockade is reinforced, plus there's two twenty-foot-tall towers in the center, over the gate."

Commander Clumb of the Kadein Eleventh Regiment raised his hand. "What word do we have from the south, sir?"

Tregor tapped his pointer on his hand.

"Red Rose Regiment is down there, following their progress. The Baguti are making little headway so far. They don't know the country, and that makes them cautious. Plus, it's all bogs and quicksands for miles down there."

"So it will take them more than a day to reach the Little Fish River?"

"All estimates are that it will take them at least two days, By which time we will have met their thrust at the crossings and denied it."

"And in the process let them winnow their own ranks attacking us in prepared and fortified lines."

"We can prepare a warm welcome for the Baguti, too, though I'm sure that once they see us waiting for them they'll back off and recross the river. Baguti are not irrational, and they don't usually fight with the black drink in their veins. They are not imps to be driven like cattle to the slaughter."

"Sir." Lenshwingel again. "What if the Baguti in the north move down against the Fort? We'll be cut off from supply."

"Right, Captain, excuse me, that's uh, Commander Lenshwingel, yes?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Of course if he moves down to the Military Road he will cut our supply line. The road is fortified, though, at every major bridge. But ten thousand riders can cause a lot of problems nonetheless. So we have been stocking up. We have almost four days' full provision in hand, am I right?"

He turned to Sublieutenant Gink.

"Yes, sir, four days, at a stretch."

"But we'll be able to feed the dragons, right?"

"Yes, sir."

"So," Tregor wheeled back to the others. "We will stand on this line and hold it and let them splinter their army on it."

"Sir, do you anticipate that we will fight here for three days?"

"Well, look at this way, Lenshwingel. We can hold them off, but they must overwhelm us if they wish to invade Kenor. So they will come right at us, hoping that their Baguti flanking forces will help them envelop our force. We will kill them on this line for as long as they come."

Lenshwingel thought he understood. This was his first experience of combat. He was anxious to be seen as useful and performing well. He was afraid, but he was told that it was normal for men to be afraid.

"Yes sir, I see it now."

"About the position at the Angle, sir?"

"Yes, Commander Kesepton."

"Have we worked out the new dragon rotation for that position? You wanted one unit at a time there, primarily to rest up from the line here, but also for the defensive role, if the enemy come in on the Military Road at our rear."

"Gink?"

"Yes, sir, it will be posted shortly. The big problem is the 145th Marneri. Since they don't have dragonboys, they're being taken care of by the boys of the 109th, with some help from the 77th Bea. If we move them up to the Angle, they'll be forced to fight without dragonboy support."

"Not good, not good at all. Hard to deputize men for that though, they'll all get killed with the tail mace."

Tregor turned to the dragon leaders.