Samual (34 page)

“And there it is.” Elder Bela could have been talking about the end of the world instead of the entrance to the Dead Creek Pass, from his tone. But then as a nature mage he probably had more reason than most. He could feel the deadness all around.

Even Sam could feel it.

His training as a mage had been advancing well, especially in the nature magics, and his instructors were well pleased with his progress. He had increased not just his repertoire of spells, but also his strength and sensitivity. Now with time and practice, he could call his horse to him from up to half a league away. He could call the birds from the trees to sing for Ry, something she enjoyed a lot. And he too could feel the terrible emptiness of the lands ahead, like a room where the air was starting to run thin and yet heavy. He would never reach the status of a master but in time he might well become an adept after all.

“We'll get through it,” Sam replied.

And they would. If nothing else, the elders had prepared their people well for this torturous leg of the journey. They had extra horses, now almost one for every man woman and child. Their artisans had spent their evenings building water wagons, while the people themselves had all been building barrels and oil skins to hold their own supplies. The order had gone out the moment they'd entered Fair Fields; five gallons minimum water carrying capacity for every man woman and child, twenty for each horse. And the people had prepared well. If anything they had exceeded that.

In Sam's own wagon they had four large barrels, each able to hold forty gallons, all full to the brim and many more skins and jugs. For the four of them and their three horses, it was more than enough to last them through the wastes provided they rationed it carefully. Their load however did mean that they had some trouble finding room to sleep on the deck.

In addition they had built sun shades to allow them and the horses to all to rest comfortably during the hottest part of the day, while they would be travelling through the night. In all, Sam had confidence that they would get through all right.

They were fortunate in that it was fall, which was probably the best possible time to cross the wastes. The days would not be so hot, the nights not so cold. The slow pace they had taken as they crossed Fair Fields had worked to their advantage. Two and a half months to cross one hundred and fifty leagues was almost slothful. But they were better prepared now. And they would not be stopping every day to purchase supplies and trade as they crossed the wastes. It would be a much faster leg of the journey.

“And then what?” For once the Elder was uncharacteristically direct.

Sam understood what he meant. He and the rest of the elders had discussed that even more than the hardships ahead. They could prepare for the hardships. What they couldn't prepare for was a life in another province. No more could their people.

After three long months of travelling, there was only one more month to go. The end was in sight. But the end wasn't really an end. It was just a new beginning. And one no one was sure they wanted to start on. Everyone seemed to now be focused on that. Some of the people were lucky in that they had kin in the Flats, and would be able to stay with them. But most had few if any family there and were effectively refugees in a strange land. They would be cared for, there was no doubt of that, and a place had been set aside for them to set up a township, which in time might become another province. But it wasn't home.

“And then we begin anew. A new city, a new land, but with a strong people. We will survive, mourn our dead and start again.”

They were hard words but true. In saying them Sam was actually only saying what had been said a hundred times before in Fair Fields during the land wars before the kingdom had united under its first king. Then too people had said those things after their lives had once more been destroyed. It was simply the price of war. It wasn't just the soldiers who died.

“You forget young Samual. Even if we do find a place and settle down, there is still an enemy out there that we have to fight. He may come for us and our kin again. There is no true end in sight until he is defeated.”

“Elder, I have been reading and rereading the accounts of the Dragon Wars day and night, as have the scholars and the war masters. And while much is unclear, some things are obvious, especially when viewed from the information that the shadelings gave us. The enemy comes by boat. His armies can only travel so far from him before they must stop. He will attack up and down the coasts first, driving one and all into the inland provinces. Then presumably, if he makes it that far, he will set up his bases before he strikes further inland. But that will be many years away.” Sam left unspoken the fact that the Golden River Flats where they were headed had no coastline. And that the nearest coast to Shavarra – the town of Beckenridge – was thirty leagues from the city. The rats had marched a very long way before attacking the city. He didn't really know just how far the machina would be prepared to march to attack their targets. He just hoped that the Flats would be far enough.

“The original Dragon Wars lasted nearly a decade, and in all that time he attacked and held only twenty seven coastal provinces. Each new territory he gained cost him many more resources, and that meant each following attack was further away in time as he had to build more machina. That's why in his later conquests he hired mercenaries to flesh out his armies. The people will be safe for many years in the Flats even if the worst happens and he takes all the coastal cities. There will be time to prepare.”

“Ahh, the naiveté of youth. Wanting to trust in hope where the facts are not certain.”

It was unlike the Elder to be so gloomy and Sam guessed the emptiness of the lands must be harder on him than he'd thought.

“No old friend. He gives the analysis of a soldier born. One day we may yet make a war master out of young Samual here. He sees the battle ahead very clearly.”

Wyldred had joined them at the entrance to the pass, and he, like Sam, saw the same likely pattern of attacks occurring. Whether it was the Dragon returned or some evil successor, the enemy was so far following the same campaign. He had to. He had the same armies and they assumed the same method of transport. He was probably also sending out his armies from the same place.

The only question for Sam was why the Dragon was attacking the coastal cities if, he was working from Andrea as legends had it? Andrea was nowhere near the sea. And if he was based there surely he should have sent his first armies straight into Fair Fields and Ore Bender's Mountains. They were the closest lands after all. Was he trying to hide his true home? Or had it in fact been that the caverns to which he had finally retreated had not been his origin, only his safe harbour at the end? There was of course no answer but it was a question that desperately needed one.

“What's that?”

Sam was pulled out of his reverie by the guard's abrupt question, and it took him a moment to see where the guard's hand was pointing. Sam let his gaze follow the guard's hand and looked south, across the boundary between Fair Fields and the Dead Belly Wastes. He saw nothing other than sandy hills and more sandy hills for as far as the eye could see.

“Where?” But even as he asked he saw that the guard's hand was pointed not just south, but also slightly upwards, and as he followed his arm, he soon saw the black smudge in the air above the hills that the guard was asking about. Unfortunately, he had no answer. To him it was just a black smudge. It was the same to the others. It was simply too small and too far away. But something about it troubled him. It could have been a bird – a small griffin or even a cloud – but for some reason Sam felt threatened by it. Looking around he saw he wasn't alone.

“Do we have a telescope?” Even as he asked, one of the Council guards pulled out one of the copper tubes from his saddle bags and handed it to him. Another was given to Wyldred and carefully they began studying the skies. The telescopes were amazing instruments, the secret of their construction known only to a few master artisans, all of them dwarves. As always Sam marvelled at the fact that they could bring a man's face into view from more than a league away. It was as though he was just outside the window. But they were difficult to use, and both Sam and Wyldred spent considerable time playing with the small wheels at the instruments' bases before the beast came into view. Then he wished it hadn't.

“Alder's hairy tits! It's a steel drake.”

Sam was the first to identify the creature, his nightly reading of the history of the Dragon Wars telling him exactly what it was. But knowing what it was, and knowing what to do about it were two completely different things. Steel drakes had been the ancient Dragon's terror weapon, and paradoxically his undoing. Nearly unassailable, they attacked from the air, often completely without warning, raining fire down like a dragon upon anyone unfortunate enough to be out in the open. They had struck in the lands that weren't yet under attack, creating chaos and confusion, and preventing them from sending armies to help others under siege.

If the steel drakes hadn't been seen as an affront by the dragons themselves, who had then begun destroying them in their hundreds, they would have ensured the Dragon's victory. The dragons however, would not tolerate another ruler of the skies and when the steel drakes had flown over their lairs they had struck them down.

“Sound the alarms. Get the people down below their wagons. Tether the horses and for the Goddess' sake get the weather mages here as fast as possible.”

Fortunately Wyldred was nowhere near as slow as Sam as he started yelling orders, and Sam remembered with relief, that there was an answer. Towards the end of the wars it had been found that weather mages, the most practical and yet least war like of all spell casters, could effectively bring the steel drakes down. The drakes didn't fly well and even a relatively small cross wind could bring them crashing to the ground. If they hit hard enough they would then explode in a fiery heap.

Immediately horses began galloping back toward the rest of the caravan as riders obeyed their instructions. Meanwhile Sam concentrated on building his fire within him. According to all the reading he'd done, it would be of little use to him as the steel drakes like all dragons were immune to fire spells. Still it was his best weapon. In fact against such a nightmare, it was his only one.

Steel drakes chose to attack from the air, staying safely out of range of both archers and fire mages, while it was said their flame could spray for hundreds of yards, incinerating not just a few soldiers, but an entire army. To face them was to die, and to run the only accepted defence, as long as everyone ran in different directions. But if the caravan scattered, Sam knew they would be picked off one by one and not all would return.

Fortunately Sam's lessons suddenly paid off as he realised that while fire magic was not that useful in attacking a steel drake, it could still be a potent defence. Because it could still be used as a way of hiding.

Sending out a spray of ice arrows as far as the eye could see down the caravan, and then hitting them with flame strikes, Sam began creating a fog over the elves. It might not stop the steel drake's flame, but what the machina couldn't see it couldn't spray with fire. And while such creatures might not be affected by illusion, the fog was no illusion.

Slowly he began thickening the fog as he added more and more ice and fire to it. And while the process was painfully slow, thanks to the early warning from the sharp eyed guard he had time. Steel drakes were not fast flyers either, travelling not much quicker than a man on a horse, and this one had been at least a league away when the guard had spotted it. Meanwhile he could hear the sounds of bells clanging furiously all the way down to the caravan's rear, a quarter of a league back. The early warning system had been sounded.

In the middle of the caravan a sudden explosion of fog billowed out. It seemed the other fire mages had seen what he was doing, and had followed suit. With nearly twenty of them – four of them masters – they were doing a much better job than him. Sam felt a wave of relief wash over him as it gave him the chance to concentrate his fog on the parts of the caravan nearer him and thickened it up quickly. It wasn't long before the sky was turning grey all around them.

Soon the fog around them was so thick that they could barely see ten feet in front of them, and Sam could feel it rising hundreds of feet into the air and covering them all in a blanket of cloud. It was just as well, as he could hear the shouts of the sentries hiding just on the edge of the fog, calling that the drake was finally overhead. It had been a nervous wait.