The Dragons of Argonath (55 page)

An arrow flicked past, well wide. Behind the riders, imps were flooding out onto the field, a dozen torches flared. Dogs were streaming toward them across the furrows.

Lessis felt defeat approaching. They could never reach the trees in time. They could not protect the children from the dogs.

Another arrow flicked past. The riders were getting into range.

The first dogs were passing the riders. Lessis couldn't conjure swiftly enough to stop them now, and the dogs had the children in sight. Their barking grew high and excited, and then the baying began in earnest with the roaring and high yipping of the imps coming in behind. Mirk stopped and threw stones with a punishing accuracy. He struck his first dog in the chest, his second on the head, knocking it cold, and his third in the chest. The rest sheared off, looping around the fugitives.

Lessis stopped to throw a confusion spell, but even as she began, she knew she would not have time to finish it. The riders were bearing down. An imp with a lance was approaching, and behind it came more.

And then there came a high sharp cornet cry from the trees. An Argonath cornet, silvery and bright. Their heads whipped around.

Under the trees huge bulky shapes suddenly moved out of concealment. A wooden fence splintered under huge feet, and then moonlight glinted off big helmets and shields.

Lessis gaped. Battledragons, an entire squadron from the look of it!

The enemy riders had pulled up, amazed at these terrifying apparitions that were marching out of the trees. They called out to each other in consternation. One of them began blowing a horn.

That provoked a great roar-scream from one of the advancing monsters, and Lessis realized it had to be the wild dragon, the Purple Green himself. She wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. The 109th Marneri were there!

The riders pulled back, the imps came up in a dense mass. The hounds were running around like berserk things, but after one or two came too close to the dragons and perished, the rest steered clear.

Dragonboys advanced behind the dragons, bows ready to give covering fire.

The imps were not under the influence of the black drink. They stood there irresolute for a few moments, but as the dragons came closer, the riders rode back through the imps and formed a line behind them. The imps were between the riders and the dragons. The imps started to move back at once.

The men cursed the imps and struck them with their heavy quirts, but the imps ran anyway. Soon the men were forced to turn their terrified mounts and run ahead of the imps while the dragons came on behind them.

A dragonboy appeared out of the dark, flushed and breathing hard.

"Lady! I am Manuel of the 109th Marneri. We recognized you, and the Lady Lagdalen."

"And I recognize you, Manuel. I just saw the Purple Green with my own eyes. What a sight! We thank you, for you have saved all our lives. Your unit is making this a habit!"

"It was the dragons, Lady. They insisted we come here. They've been tracking the Broketail all the way. They just knew to come here."

"Ah." Lessis nodded. The mysteries of the dragon mind were exposed again.

"Captain Kesepton is here too."

"What?" said Lagdalen.

The next moment Hollein was there, and Lagdalen leapt into his arms with a glad cry.

"Lady?" said Manuel.

"Yes, child."

"Have you seen the Broketail dragon, by any chance?"

Lessis sighed unhappily.

"Yes. They saved us from certain capture and death. Alas, they are trapped in the labyrinth beneath the big house."

"Can you show us how to reach them?"

Lessis stared at the youth. Was he serious? Then she reflected, with the 109th Fighting Marneri at your side, you could go almost anywhere.

"Yes, I can."

Her eyes fell on a hobbling child.

"But first we must hide these children. They were captives of the enemy. We must try and get them to safety."

Manuel and Kesepton whistled to the others. Soon the children were placed among the trees and told to huddle together for warmth. Lagdalen and Hollein remained with them, along with the two Talion men, Dricanter and Tegmann. Lessis and Mirk accompanied Manuel and headed off in the wake of the wyverns.

They came across the remains of a few men, horses, and imps at a point where the lane narrowed between two banks of trees, and the dragons had caught up with the riders.

Then they retraced their steps over the lawns and shrubberies to the big house, which was still ablaze with lights. At the entrance to the underground lair of the Dominator, they found the gates closed and a sense of watchfulness in the air.

The dragons were hidden just out of sight of the gates when Lessis and Mirk arrived. The gates were stoutly built. They would not fall easily, even to a squadron of battledragons.

"How are we going to get in?" said Mirk.

"The Purple Green thinks he has the answer," responded Manuel.

A few moments later the big dragon reappeared, a vast dark mass moving on two legs. He carried over his shoulder a marble statue of Faltus Wexenne. It was an imposing piece, twice life-size and carved in the finest marble. It showed Wexenne as the great thinker, sitting on a tall chair. It was the work of Chatook, the leading sculptor of Aubinas.

The dragon set the heavy statue down with a deep groan of effort.

"What are you going to do with that?" said his dragonboy.

"By the fiery breath, what do you think? Break gates."

Bazil was the first to notice the change. The ram had ceased.

"Ram!"

Relkin looked up from his efforts to repair an arrow.

"Stopped."

There was a strange tension in the air. Relkin sensed magical powers at work. Icy fingers scraped down distant walls of glass, he felt his eyes tearing for no reason.

"He's out there; I can feel him."

The tension built slowly, as if a thunderstorm were gathering. Relkin felt increasingly oppressed as it ratcheted up a hidden scale. Both he and Bazil were standing now, watching the doors intently.

There began a hum, and a vibration built up in the room that rattled their teeth and seemed to shake right through their skulls. The hum continued, getting louder if anything. A light gleamed beneath the door, then flashed up through the center and spread across at the top. It vanished with a sharp crack, and they were left with a harsh chemical smell.

The hum returned, grew loud, and continued. Now the material of the door itself began to glow softly while the tension in the air grew. When it was quite unbearable, there was a rupture of some kind and a flash of brilliant green light.

Relkin knew at once that the doors were no longer protected by Lessis's powerful spell of fundament.

There was a harsh cry on the far side of the doors, and the ram began again. The doors shook, and a panel split from side to side. A triumphant guttural roar broke out. On the next stroke the ram burst that panel inward. Axes and picks were at work, widening the gap, tearing out the centerpiece. Imps were thrusting themselves through, their eyes blazing with the black drink. The bewkmen behind them were baying like dogs.

Bazil stepped forward and swung a bench two-handed to swat the imps that got through. Relkin found a bow and a quiver full of arrows on one swatted imp's body. Staying low, he scuttled back while the huge bench went whirling by just inches overhead and slapped a pair of bewkmen back through the hole in the doors.

Imp arrows had to be cut down to fit his Cunfshon bow, so he turned to the imp bow instead, a simple bow, short on range, but easy to use. At once he put an arrow into an imp trying to get through the door. It was trodden down from behind by a bewk, which burst the doors apart and tumbled in. It barely regained its balance before Bazil walloped it with the bench, and it staggered back out the doors. Two more took its place. He slammed them with the table too, but they rode it out behind their shields. Their swords glittered.

Bazil pulled back, grabbed the bench by two of its legs, and drove forward, catching the bewks' shields and propelling them back by brute strength until they crashed through the ruins of the doors.

Arrows studded Baz's hide for that, but the bewks were a little slow getting up.

Bazil grunted with an obscure satisfaction. These things weren't as tough as that damned horror he'd fought in Mirchaz. Thing like a giant carrot, with rubber flesh and a strong sword arm, almost unkillable. No, these beasties weren't that tough.

His thoughts were cut off by a sudden flash of that damned green light. With the light came that hateful figure in the suit of armor. It raised a hand and froze its minions in place.

Bazil wasn't inclined to mince words with this sorcerer any further. He slammed the table down with all his might.

The knight took the blow and was hurled back several paces, but unharmed. He gave a great bray of laughter.

"Behold the shield of Waakzaam! This is a shield of Granite, foolish wyvern!"

He dodged forward, Bazil swung and missed and could not recover quickly enough to do more than hold up the bench as a shield. The great knight cut through part of the bench with his first stroke. Bazil drew Ecator just in time, as the bench was smashed in the next moment.

Relkin peppered the knight with arrows, aiming always for the eye slits in that armored head, but the magic was strong and all arrows ricocheted away.

The knight struck for Bazil's belly, but the wyvern had his sword there in time. The parry sent off huge sparks. Bazil exerted himself and heaved forward.

The knight was thrust back. He raised a hand and hurled a blue-white bolt of fire directly into Bazil's face.

Bazil was blinded momentarily, but training and instinct kept him moving. He jerked back, stumbled, then steadied himself with the sword at the ready. There were spots in front of his eyes, his head rang as if he'd been kicked by a mule, but he could see just enough to fight.

The knight came on with a shriek of cold triumph, certain that he had mastered the wyvern. He swung, but found himself checked once more by Ecator, which gave out a tiny scream of hatred.

Waakzaam's attention was deflected by this minute noise for a moment too long. Bazil's hand caught the side of his helmet with a heavy slap.

He staggered back, the dragonsword flashed around and broke the knight's fell blade in a flash of flame. Ecator screamed again, this time in triumph. Waakzaam gave a peculiar groan of frustration and impotent rage, and lurched backward, but not far enough. A moment later he was driven hard by a backhand from the dragon and went back through the door, arms pinwheeling for balance. He slammed up against a bewk and bowled it over.

Arrows nicked in and began to find the target on Bazil. Relkin kept up a steady rate of return fire, but his arrow stock ran low. Bazil lifted a table as a shelter from the arrows. They waited for the end.

It did not come. Instead the lull continued. They stared at the ruined doors, and the imps at the door continued to shoot at them. Relkin soon had plenty of arrows, and he started shooting back.

While he shot, he tried to think of some way out of this trap, but it seemed they were finally done for. At the back there was only the air vent, which was way too small for a dragon. Nor could they conceivably charge the enemy and hope to break through. There were just too many of them, and Bazil would die speared.

Suddenly there came a horn blast, and Waakzaam appeared at the door, bewkmen stepping in around him in a protective circle.

Relkin's heart skipped a beat.

The sorcerer held Eilsa at his side. Her face was bloody, her clothes ripped. She had put up a hell of a fight, but now she was chained by the neck, and Waakzaam held the chain. He tugged hard and forced her forward onto her knees.

"Well, well, look what we found!" There was a tone of malicious glee in the giant knight's voice.

Relkin swung up the bow, but Waakzaam's knife was pressed against the back of her neck.

"Do that and she dies."

Relkin could not shoot. Bazil stood back. The imps were getting fired up again for another attack.

"You will have to surrender. You will make superb experimental specimens. I have much to learn. Perhaps I should breed dragons of my own. They are remarkable beasts."

"Dragon never kill for such as you," growled Bazil.

"I don't know, perhaps with the right education they might."

Eilsa looked up, her eyes cleared at the sight of the dragon and his boy.

"Relkin, kill this thing, no matter what he might do to me."

"Hah! Foolish wench!"

The sorcerer made a fist and projected a bolt of blue-white energy at Relkin that knocked him off his feet.

Bazil looked for a chance to wield Ecator, but the sorcerer was holding Eilsa out in front of him by the scruff of her neck.

"Go ahead, kill his love, break his heart, great worm!"

"Put her down and take up the sword. This dragon fight you to the end."

"Oh, I'm sure you would. You are a creature of enormous heart. But I've had enough of this fight. I'm just going to order you to be speared if you don't surrender."

Bazil had just enough room to swing the sword. He waited, sword poised in both hands for a killing blow. Relkin rolled over and crawled out of range, still shaking his head after receiving that bolt of energy. There were spots in front of his eyes and a roaring sound in his ears, but he kept his grip on the bow. When he was behind the dragon, he pulled himself back together, pulled another arrow, and took aim. He was feeling a little wobbly, but his strength was returning. The sorcerer glared at them.

"Very well, I can't be bothered with you anymore." He raised a hand to unleash his minions.

At which point they all noticed something different in the air. A kind of rumble, a low vibration. It grew louder. Suddenly there was a shockingly loud scream, and then came the sound of doors somewhere being smashed to pieces very quickly. More shouts and a distant clattering. A few moments passed, and there came a roar-scream of shattering power.