Dragons of War (36 page)

"We have a guide who knows the swamps well. The enemy will not be so blessed. Furthermore, he will still have to deal with our forces, and we will slow him considerably in the swamps."

"I have heard many evil things of the swamps. They are said to be haunted by dwarves and monsters from out of the mists of time." Hopper Reabody had a thin voice almost permanently raised in complaint.

"Such creatures would be well-advised to remain in the mists. I saw the good folk from Bur Lake go marching away with scythes and forks over their shoulders. They looked fierce enough to take a place in the battle line."

This upset Fanner Besson. "My women folk are not bred for fighting like common men!"

"That may well be, Citizen, but I expect they'll fight rather than surrender to the enemy."

"I do not understand why we didn't go up the Bur Valley to High Lake."

"We did not go that way, Citizen, because my men and dragons will be needed on the other side of those mountains. There will be a great battle over there, I believe."

"What?" Genver purpled. "Are you suggesting there will be warfare in the Argonath?"

"How strong is our force at the High Pass? How ready can they be when the onslaught comes? I am neither optimist nor pessimist, but I am a professional soldier. I must plan for all eventualities, even the very worst."

Genver, Reabody, and Besson wore a look of mutual shock and remained unusually mute.

Eads seized the opportunity.

"Well, gentlemen, I hope we will be reunited once more within the week. I expect to see you on the shore of Lake Wattel. Captain Retiner has detailed thirty troopers to go with you."

Farmer Besson was confused, however. "I don't understand where all this is leading."

"I thought it was obvious, sir. We head for the Kohon Pass. It's our only sure way through the mountains now."

"But the High Pass?"

"Will be under attack, good Farmer Besson. If there are five thousand imps pursuing us here, think of how many there will be marching up the Lis."

Besson swallowed heavily. He had heard the stories concerning the size of the enemy host.

"But how can we cross there? It's too high," said Genver.

"It is high, but not impassable. It is long and arduous, but if it is a choice between that and death, I am confident which one we will choose."

" 'Tis forty miles through snow and bare rock. We will lose many of the older folk."

Eads was nodding, his features grew somber.

"We will lose many of them all along the march. In truth, gentlemen, you delayed your departure by much too long. You could have been to the High Pass by now."

Tursturan Genver spluttered.

"The Bur, we should go up the Bur to High Lake."

"There are as many portages on the Bur as there are on the Kalens, actually more. There is no safety at High Lake, and with more than a thousand women in our party, we can be certain this enemy army will never give up."

"We can cross the lake and go down to Dalhousie on the Argo."

"Gentlemen, my men and dragons will be needed in Arneis. We go for the Kohon Pass."

"You can't be serious. You're suggesting that the enemy will take the High Pass!" Tursturan Genver refused to believe it.

"Let us hope it does not happen, but I must work with that eventuality in mind."

At length the refugee leaders left, and were rowed upriver in the canoes that had been carried up the Lion's Roar.

The next day was one of slow-building tension. Baguti cavalry were seen some ways down the Lion's Roar in the morning. By mid-afternoon, Talion scouts reported heavy masses of imp moving up the trail toward them. Among them were squads of tall, monstrous trolls.

The dragons peered over the barrier, long necks craning, eyes straining to glimpse these great brutes.

The trolls came into view, immense things like bears crossed with men. Over their shoulders they carried great axes and shields.

"Not so big, after all," sniffed Vlok.

"How long do they have to be cooked to make them edible?" said the Purple Green, who was always seeking some variety in the monotonous, though ample, legion diet. The other dragons rumbled with amusement.

Eads had set out small ambush parties of bowmen, and by late afternoon the men and dragons at the barricade could hear, one after the other, a small fracas taking place at each ambush site.

The bowmen came drifting back shortly thereafter. Soon the last few scouts came in. The word was that the enemy were massed not more than two hundred yards down the path, where it ran through a jumble of huge boulders, pieces of the Kalenstone that had been broken off and pushed downslope by the river's erosive power.

They waited. Eads ordered kalut brewed and distributed. He and the other captains moved around the position, crossing the river by canoe, showing themselves to the men, working to keep up morale.

Everyone knew what to do. Everyone knew what to expect. The tension built anyway. They knew they were enormously outnumbered and on their own. Still the enemy held off. Men began to think that they might be spared the battle that day. A few murmured prayers of thanks to the Great Mother. The sun declined in the west toward the distant Kontok Hills. Flocks of waterfowl came winging by, heading east. The men watched them with envious eyes.

And then with a ringing blast it came. A hundred horns blared, and the enemy's drums thundered. Up the steep paths came a swarm of squat, hideous imps, made huge by the light of the setting sun behind them. Their war cry, shrill and piercing, rang off the crags. Their black banners bore the red hand of Axoxo.

With them were squads of skilled bowmen in the black uniform of Padmasa. Now arrows were whistling over the barricade and even coming through it where the branches were few.

The defenders held their fire, waiting for the order. Men spat, chewed their lips, and made bitter little jokes.

Beyond the imps came trolls, nine feet high, enormous axes over their shoulders. They came in squads of ten, one after the other. The horns screamed. The drums hammered.

"Fire!" came the order at last, and the bowmen and the dragonboys rose and sent a volley of shafts into the advancing horde. Imps fell along the line, but were scarcely noticed by the onrushing mass. More arrows flew among them. And now the dragons set forward and seized boulders from the piles that had been collected. With massive grunts of effort, they sent these heavy rocks flying over the barricade and down among the onrushing imps. Shrieks of terror and brief screams came from the throats of the imp mass as the rocks fell among them. But paradoxically it only caused the imps to hurry their feet. They came to the barricade and scrambled up like a tide of human crabs to go shield to shield with the defenders.

Bazil, Vlok, and the Purple Green were set to defend a V-shaped salient on the south side of the river, where the barricade thrust forward to encompass a projecting finger of higher ground made by a slab of Kalenstone. Bazil was set on the point, with Relkin behind him. Vlok and Swane were to the left, the Purple Green with Manuel was to the right. Each dragon was spaced twenty to thirty feet from the next to allow room for the wielding of the dragonswords.

Set between each dragon, crouched down and waiting, were pairs and trios of men from the 322. They were armed with heavy spears in addition to their swords and rectangular shields.

Set back from the line as a mobile reserve were the Kohon Yeomen, forty or so on either bank of the stream. These were older men, ex-legionaries, for the most part. They had families and farms in Kenor. They were fighting for their homes, but they would lack some of the staying power of active legionaries.

In addition, the Talion horsemen were busy out on the south flank, maneuvering to keep the Baguti in view. The nomad cavalry was riding for the south passage over the Kalenstone. The Talion Light Horse would have to block them if they could.

On the flanks were small squads of horsemen and Kenor bowmen. Infiltrating parties of imps that scaled the cliffs were intercepted and broken up and hurled off the cliff face.

But now the imps came close to the top of the barrier, and the men and the dragons stepped up to meet them. Digal Turrent leapt to his feet blowing the cornet. The first imps to reach the top came face-to-face quite suddenly with ten-foot-tall dragon forms, looming over them, huge shields bearing the flower of Marneri, terrible great swords screaming down.

Screams of "Gazak!" rang from impish throats and were then cut off in the sounds of steel and war. The scream of "Gazaki" went up all the way back down the line, huge filthy dragons there were, with terrible swords for slaying the imp. But still they came on, their stomachs filled with the black drink, their brutish hearts racing and their savage minds filled only with the urge to kill.

The dragonswords rose and fell, and imps were scattered, sundered, hurled away in fragments.

The fighting at the salient over the kalenstone was fierce from the beginning.

A dozen imps rushed up the barricade and converged on Bazil's position at the point. Ecator flashed in a long forehand sweep. An imp's head flew away like a shuttlecock at rackets. Others flattened themselves and came on crawling like beasts.

Relkin kept up a swift, steady fire, and here and there his shafts struck through imp armor and roused a shriek. Still they came on.

Bazil made smooth, continuous strokes with the great sword, forehands followed by backhands. Each time he sundered one or more imps from their lives. Arrows rang off his helmet and stuck impotently in the joboquin. One struck him in the forehead but bounced off the thick bone, leaving just a jarring pain and a cut that spattered hot dragon blood across the rocks.

For a moment his stroke went wide and ended weakly, cutting down into the trunk of a small oak tree, piled into the barricade.

An imp cut inside his shield. It tried to stab him in the thigh, and he was forced to give a step back, but this also let him bring the tail mace to play. His famous broken tail cracked, and the mace struck down upon the imp's helmet with a flash of sparks; the imp toppled.

The sight of the dragon's blood had raised concern in Relkin's eyes. The dragon clacked his jaws together.

"Just a nick, already healing."

More imps were coming over the top of the barricade, and Relkin was forced to engage with a swart creature wearing a black pot helmet with a spike in the top. The imp wielded a short, heavy sword with some rude skill.

Relkin met the imp's sword with his own and held him. The imp snarled something in its harsh tongue and spat at him. Their swords rang off each other again and again. Then with a sly maneuver, the imp came in close and forced Relkin back, shield to shield. Although several inches shorter than Relkin, the imp was horribly strong, and Relkin was forced out of his chosen position.

Another imp was to his right. He caught this foe's sword on his shield, but it was a heavy blow and he was driven almost to his knees.

Freed of Relkin's attentions, the first imp had turned inside and was hacking at Bazil's right hamstring.

The dragon jerked his shield back to cover, but that let an imp in front of him get inside. A sword cut upward to stab the dragon through the gizzards and by a miracle was deflected by the studs on the joboquin. The imp got no second chance, for Bazil smote him with the hilt of Ecator the next second and then tore him in half with his hind feet.

Meanwhile Relkin feinted and dodged and took advantage of luck when the imp on his right lost its footing for a moment. Relkin sprang close and brought his sword down on the imp's shoulder. The sword buried itself in the flesh and dark blood gushed forth. The imp gave a shriek, dropped to one knee, reached up and seized hold of Relkin's boot, and jerked him off his feet.

One powerful imp hand seized him by the throat. The creature rolled on top of him, even though his sword was still embedded in its shoulder. Blood poured down on him as the imp crushed his windpipe. He was too strong and heavy to throw off.

Relkin scrabbled for his dirk and found it. With a prayer to ancient Asgah, god of war, he stabbed upward, aiming for a space below the vest of mail worn by the imp. On the second try he struck home, and the dirk entered below the rib cage and went deep. With a groan, the imp lost its grip, subsided, and fell away.

Relkin was already scrambling to his feet, only just in time to evade another sword blow. Now, however, he was without a sword for his own was still buried in the dead imp at his feet. The foe laughed insanely and came on with its own blade whirling above its head. And was stopped by a spear lancing in from the left, taking the imp in the side, just above the hip. One of the men of the 322s was there, foot on the imp's chest, heaving the spear free.

"I thank you," said Relkin.

" 'Tweren't nothing you wouldn't do for me," said the soldier, now with his spear up and in the face of the next imp on the barricade.

Relkin wasted no time in retrieving his own sword and getting back into his position on the barricade. Another imp was upon him. Their swords rang on each other. Relkin's arm was starting to turn numb, and the fight was just begun.

And then the dragon's tail mace came down and caught the imp in the middle of the back. The imp was flung to his knees, and Relkin's sword was deep in his neck the next moment.

Bazil swung Ecator in another back-and-forth combination, and two more imps were bisected and scattered in a shower of viscera.

And then the battle rage faded for the moment as the imps fell back. More horns were blaring. Other imps were coming through the mass of those retreating, and with them came trolls.

The dragons hissed to themselves. The trolls came on and clumsily stepped up onto the barricade. This made them unhappy. They much disliked the loss of contact with the ground. Trolls had notoriously poor balance. One, in fact, toppled over and rolled back down and knocked over two more who fell into several others, causing chaos for a moment in front of the Purple Green and Alsebra. The dragons seized up boulders and hurled them down on the fallen trolls.