The War Of The Lance (32 page)

That night, Laurana held another council of war - and again Mellison was present to record
the first part of the discussions.

“We MUST take up a defensive position!” Sir Patrick urged. "I admit, my general, that your
leadership has carried us to victories beyond my wildest dreams. But now - we STILL don't
know where the Emperor's main body is. The clouds mask our entire right flank while we
march in the open, day after day! The attack could come with barely an hour's warning. And
if it catches us in line of march,

we will be smashed and broken in detail!“ ”Bah!" Gilthanas - undoubtedly nervous himself -

exploded in a rare show of temper. “These dragons are not DEFENSIVE creatures! If you tie
them to one location, you deprive them of their strength. Can't you knights force that
fact through your Oath-and-Measure-bound skulls?”

Sir Patrick stiffened, his hand going to the hilt of his sword, but the Golden General
stepped smoothly between the two. Laurana did not involve herself in the quarrel. Instead,
she turned to Lord Sword. “And you, my lord, do you have thoughts on this topic?”

That white-whiskered veteran sighed and shook his head. “I don't know what to believe any
more, general. For a certainty you have shown us the value of speed and movement. But Sir
Patrick makes a valid point. Without knowledge of the enemy's location, how can we know
where to move?”

The elven princess pondered the lord's words, then turned to Sir Caerscion and Sir
Markham, who had remained silent up until this point.

“And you, good sirs?” Laurana asked. “Do you counsel a stand here, on the plain?”

“I do, general,” Sir Caerscion replied. “With a few days to prepare entrenchments, and a
good scouting effort, we can make a strong position. The Dark Lady will find us and
attack, but we will meet her forces well-rested and prepared to fight.”

“But if we stop, the Highlord will be able to strike us with every weapon at her disposal.
That includes the Red Wing - and we still don't know where the reserve army is. Whereas,
if we keep moving we force the enemy to keep pursuing. It is far less likely that they
will gather the concentration they could muster if we stopped.” Markham's remarks provoked
a scowl of angry disapproval from Sir Patrick.

Laurana smiled, pleasantly surprised by the young captain's observations. “EXACTLY! That's
why we resume the march, tomorrow, but with a change in course.”

“AGAIN!” cried Patrick in exasperation. “If you must march, let us at least fall back on
Palanthas!”

“We will, Sir Patrick. Only not quite that far. Our destination is the final battleground.
And that - I mean to ensure - will be our own choosing.”

Lord Sword gestured to the flat plains stretching away on all sides. “One patch of the
grass is pretty much like another.”

“For the most part,” Laurana agreed. “But there are exceptions.”

The others paused, curious to know what she would tell them next. Markham had a half-smile
on his face. Lord Sword and Sir Caerscion waited with obvious apprehension. Gilthanas
seemed bored and restless, his eyes drifting over to the great silver dragon resting
beyond the fringes of the fire.

Sir Patrick, of course, scowled in preliminary displeasure. Finally he could hold his
tongue no longer. “Exceptions?” he grumbled.

“Exactly,” announced the Golden General. “Exceptions like rivers. That's why, as soon as
we reach the near bank, we will again cross the Vingaard.”

The council paused as the captains registered their surprise in raised eyebrows or shrewd
squints. For once, however, the knights did not greet their general's plan

with a chorus of objections - the advantages of her plan were obvious to all of them. Once
they had crossed to the west bank - or the north, actually, for the river had already
begun its broad sweep eastward toward Kalaman - they would place the river as barrier
between them and the dragonarmies of the Red and Blue Wings.

“But don't we allow them the chance to concentrate their forces? We've labored long to
avoid giving them the opportunity until now,” ventured Sir Markham perceptively.

Laurana frowned. Her face, in the play of the slowly fad ing fire, took on again that look
of age. Lines of strain lingered in shadows around her cheeks and her eyes.

“We do,” she admitted. “My hope is that Ariakus and Kitiara will see their quarry slipping
back to the safety of the High Clerist's Tower and come after us in a hurry. If the Red
Wing reaches the river first, we can goad it into crossing before the reserve army or the
Blue Wing can join up.”

“And if they don't?” suggested Sir Patrick, belligerently.

“You were right in the observation you made before, Sir Patrick,” Laurana said, causing
the knight to clamp his mouth shut and blink his eyes in surprise. “The clouds over the
Dargaard Range hide our foes from us. If we remain this far east, the entire assembled
dragonarmy can strike us before we have time to react. That's why we need the river.”

“Will we fly the troops across again?” asked Lord Sword, with a worried look. “That was a
slow process, and we couldn't expect to do it uninterrupted a second time.”

“We'll have to,” Sir Caerscion noted. “There is a ford in the bend of the River - Margaard
Ford, I believe it's called - but it's certain to be too dangerous to use at this time of
year. The current would carry an armored knight and his warhorse away, not to mention the
poor blighters on foot.”

“It may be that we can use the ford. I won't know until tomorrow. I am weary, gentlemen. I
bid you good night.” Laurana turned away, and only Mellison saw the smile that creased the
general's lips. By her remark about the ford, it was obvious Laurana's plan was already in
her mind, though she did not share it with anyone.

So the army once more broke camp before the dawn, turning back toward the Vingaard. The
mighty river, no more than ten miles away, to the northwest, was swollen by the spring
melt. By the end of a single day of marching, the entire army reached the bank - but even
before then, Laurana had embarked upon the next part of her plan.

As the army marched toward Margaard Ford, the Golden General dispatched her" brass and
bronze dragons to the edge of the cloud bank, there to patrol and watch for signs of the
emerging dragonarmies. Meanwhile, Laurana, mounted on her gold dragon, flew southward,
toward the tightest bottleneck of the Narrows. She took all of the silver dragons with
her, including the mighty Silvara with her brother Gilthanas astride.

“We followed her without question,” Gilthanas reported to his brother, Porthios, by
letter. "By this time, our faith in Laurana was absolute - even the gruff captains of the
knightly orders had begun to treat her with a 'measure' of respect!

"I have traveled along the bank of the Narrows, and there can be no doubt as to the site
Laurana selected for the work of the silver dragons: gray walls of granite rise a hundred
feet on either side of the river, forcing the wide Vingaard through a ravine merely two
hundred feet wide. In spring, the swollen river becomes an angry torrent, cascading
through a forest of boulders, its waters churned into a chaotic maelstrom.

"Less than half a mile beyond, the gorge walls fall away and the river returns to its
wide, deceptively placid flow. It remains thus tamed throughout its course to Margaard
Ford, some fifty miles to the north of the Narrows. In the spring, at the time of the
battle, the water was at its highest, raging around the crests of the boulders that dot
the bed, roaring angrily against anything daring enough to enter this channel.

"But the silver dragons entered, and they LANDED on these boulders - fighting for purchase
on the slick rocks, some of the serpents slipping into the water and splashing back into
the air after being swept far downstream. Finally, some perched on the wave-swept crests
of stone, others crouched on the rocky banks. Their long necks stretched downward to the
water, the great serpents awaited the further commands of their Golden

General. "Laurana gave the order. The silver dragons breathed

upon the waters; their maws gaping wide, their lungs pulsing with the most potent and
deadly of a silver serpent's horrific attacks: a blast of icy frost that casts its
chilling grip across everything that lies in its path and magically penetrates the target,
sapping every vestige of heat. It is an attack that will drive life from mortal limbs,
kill fragile leaves even as the force of the blast shatters the brittle rock into frosty
dust. It will turn water, instantly, to ice.

"Once and then again, each dragon expelled his powerful breath. The Vingaard River froze
solid in its bed. A belt of ice, extending to the bottom and anchored firmly in the great
rocks of the river bed, dammed the river's flow. As the pressure of surging water rose,
waves poured over the top of the frozen barrier and the dragons breathed again, building
the ice dam higher and higher.

"The channel behind this bottleneck was much wider than the choke-point, and much deeper.
The waters of the Vingaard gathered there, swirling and tossing, surging over their banks
and spreading outward. Although the lake thus formed expanded steadily, the wall of ice -
thickly built and firmly centered in its frame of granite bedrock - held back the pressure.

"Below the dam, the mighty Vingaard began to dwindle to a trickle, seeping between sodden
banks. Fifty miles north of the Narrows, downstream of the dam, the Army of Solamnia
reached Margaard Ford at nightfall, to find the water still too high to cross safely.

“That night the brass dragons returned with word: the dragonarmies were on the march. The
Red and Blue Wings had joined forces with the powerful reserve wing, which must have been
marching northward from Sanction for weeks, concealed by the crest of the Dargaard
Mountains and the clouds beyond.”

Indeed, Excellency, we know from dragonarmy records that Ariakus had put the formation
into action weeks before - even preceding the defeat at the High Clerist's Tower. Although
initially the Emperor himself commanded this formation, by this time in the campaign,
command had been turned over to General Bakaris.

Now the entire force advanced under a swarming

flock of blue and red dragons - the mightiest of evil dragonkind - bound to destroy the
Army of Solamnia. To the captains of the knights, who received these reports with their
backs to an apparently impassable ford, the news must have seemed dire, indeed.

Nevertheless, the Golden General met her captains there and told them they would cross in
the morning. We have no record of their reactions, but surely any misgivings they held
faded away as the river level fell steadily during the night. By dawn, the ford was a
collection of puddles spotting a smooth, gravelly path. The Army of Solamnia marched
across it in a matter of hours, while copper dragons kept watch over the advancing wings
of the dragon-armies.

The spying copper dragons dived and circled on the horizon, evading the blues and reds
that frequently soared out to drive them away. Finally, Bakaris realized that such futile
skirmishes only tired his dragons needlessly. He decided to conserve their strength and
allow his enemies to maintain their airborne spies in peace.

Bakaris managed to avoid the mistakes of the other commanders who had thus far faced the
Golden General. He maintained the concentration of his forces during the advance, refusing
to be distracted by anything except his goal: the Army of Solamnia. He marched with
considerable speed, making record time for even the normally fast-moving draconian forces.
And he wasted no time deploying for battle when the enemy was at last located.

His skill, determination and, of course, the size of his force, made him a very dangerous
opponent. He drew close to Laurana's army with shocking speed. By dawn, the morning after
the Army of Solamnia had crossed the Vingaard, the advance elements of the dragon wings
were visible on the horizon to scouts on dragonback. The dragonarmies would reach the dry
ford sometime around the middle of the day. The captains heard the reports of the vast
numbers of the enemy and were dismayed. Defeat seemed inevitable.

But Laurana had a final element to her plan, a part she kept secret to the last possible
moment, fearing enemy spies. Some of the hidebound knights - who refused to recognize an
innovative tactic until it all but knocked

them out of their saddles - must have guessed what it was. Still, concern grew through the
camp as dawn passed into full daylight. The battle was six hours away, and no barrier
stood between the armies - yet Laurana retained all of her dragons in the camp.

Mellison relates that the captains gathered privately, muttering with concern as the sun
rose steadily into the sky. They had just agreed that Sir Markham should go to the general
when Laurana surprised them by calling them to her tent.

“I'll be leaving now, for a short time. I'll be taking most of the dragons with me.”

The knights were certainly astounded by this pronouncement. If any of them mustered the
wits for a reply, it has been lost to history.

“I'll leave you the silvers and the coppers. Form a line of defense along the riverbank.
By tonight, we'll have opened the road to Kalaman ... or to the Abyss.”

The knights argued vehemently, but the Golden General held firm. She seemed unusually
somber - perhaps even severe - as they watched her mount Quallathon. Gilthanas stood
beside her and clasped her hand for a moment. Then, turning toward the army of metallic
dragons around her, Laurana signalled with a wave of her hand. The great flight of brass,
bronze, and gold dragons sprang into the air. The morning sun flashed on their wings as
the monstrous serpents soared aloft, riding the updrafts. Lifting themselves above the
trees, they bore south, along the line of the empty riverbed below.

Shortly after, from the riverside entrenchments, the dragonarmy came into sight. Bakaris
proved as aggressive on the battlefield as he had been in the march. His dragons - massive
waves of red and blue serpents bellowing their challenges through the skies - slashed into
the silver and copper dragons protecting the Army of Solamnia. Gilthanas and Silvara,
together as always, fought in the great aerial melee. He wrote to Porthios.