Dragon Ultimate (21 page)

Relkin and Bazil watched the mountain grow larger as the fleet wound its way across the floodplain.

"Remember that winter?" Bazil asked, thinking back to their days on Mount Kenor.

"Who could forget, never been that cold before or since."

"Ach! Those winds were invigorating for dragon."

"Made dragons hungry, as I recall."

"That is right. Not good to remember this."

Late in the afternoon of that day, General Tregor met with the regimental commanders in his office at Fort Kenor. Tregor had been on the scene for only a week, having hurried down the Argo himself.

A large map of the Lower Argo region was pinned to the wall.

Commanders Dirken, Clumb, Fellows, and Rush were already seated when Hollein Kesepton arrived, fresh from the quartermaster's stores, where he'd been squeezing out supplies.

"Kesepton. Take a seat, Commander."

"Yes, sir."

"How did it go at the quartermaster's?"

"Well, sir, we've got everything we need now, except a bit more rope. Quartermaster and I have been talking a lot about rope."

"Ah yes, the perennial, no quartermaster likes to give away rope and yet that's what we're always asking for. Especially here!

"We will be maneuvering across terrain that is little better than swamp, pulling wagons out of the mire all day and night. Good work with ropes and bridging can make life a lot easier. Get all the rope you can and hoard it carefully."

Tregor turned to the map for a moment, then back to them.

"Dragons will be essential in helping us through this. Their strength makes the difference, believe me. So they must be well fed, and you know how much food they can get through in a day. You understand the kind of wagon train you're going to have to have. We'll even need to haul in firewood."

The commanders absorbed all this calmly, their sergeants already on the job.

"I have some better ideas of what we'll be facing, too. Scout reports indicate the enemy will arrive on the Oon bank within a couple of weeks. His force runs to fifty thousand imps, with perhaps twenty-five thousand nomad horsemen, and at least five hundred troll, perhaps more. There are also some ogres and quite a few war machines, catapults in particular."

The commanders nodded thoughtfully. Padmasa had learned at last that trolls could not take the battlefield from battle-dragons with legion support. Not even the addition of a few superheavy ogres had changed that equation. Wyvern dragons with dragonsword and shield were unbeatable.

But dragons were vulnerable to thrown spears and to catapults, particularly the latter, which could hurl a heavy spear over a considerable distance, as much as three hundred yards with the right wind.

"The enemy will try to set battle on a field with good line of sight for the catapulters. We cannot risk exposing the dragons to catapult fire. So! We shall have to build field defenses, to force the enemy to close with us on ground of our choosing."

His audience murmured in agreement. They had trained for this.

"A parapet made of tree trunks at least six inches in diameter will stop catapult fire even at short range. Of course, this means a lot more work for your men. We will be digging and logging and sawing trees right up until we actually make contact with the enemy."

Tregor turned to the map. The crossings of the Oon were numerous at this stage of the river. Here, in the middle region of its long course, the Oon became a vast sheet of shallow water, moving slowly through a thousand braided channels at the end of the long dry season.

"It would be best to stop the enemy from crossing, and we will make our stand on the bank of the Oon. But, being realistic, we have to expect that he will get across, either here or above the Argo. There are too many places where the enemy can cross easily for us to stop him. But we have some advantages. A Padmasan horde army is poorly disciplined. Imps are volatile and prone to chaotic behaviors. We know if we can hit them before they get themselves sorted out, we can break them."

"Sir?"

"Yes, Commander Clumb."

"Will we remain organized in two legion corps? There was a rumor to the effect that we might go to divisions, two regiments in each."

Divisional commands would therefore become available, something of no little import to men such as Clumb, twelve years in the Legions and a commander only since the plague.

"The rumor is ahead of the facts, Commander Clumb. No decision has yet been made."

"Yes, sir."

Tregor tapped the map. "The Red Rose Legion is already in the field. I want your regiments to join them as soon as possible."

He looked over to Hollein. "The Eighth Marneri will be paired with the Bea regiment that is due to arrive in a few days. Your regiments will eventually be set up in mobile array behind the shoreline, keeping watch on the enemy's movements. Initially we seek to frustrate his attempts to cross. Later we will work to destroy him if he crosses the river successfully, which— realistically—is likely to occur."

Tregor gave them a tight smile.

"We will have about fifteen thousand men and three hundred dragons. This is smaller than the accepted critical mass for a Legion disciplined force, but it's the best we can do. As always, we know we cannot afford to fail."

After the plagues it was a miracle they had any army at all.

"He couldn't be here today, but General Urmin will be my second-in-command. He will command the Argonath Legion. General Va'Gol is in command of Red Rose."

Tregor swung back to Hollein.

"Commander Kesepton, I believe you know General Urmin."

"Yes, sir, I had the honor of serving under his command at Avery Fields."

"He did a marvelous job with very slender forces. I superseded him on my arrival, but by then the tough part was over. Everyone pulled together very well."

Kesepton marveled at how selective a commanding officer's memory can be. Back then, General Tregor had been near-apoplectic over the sudden disappearance of the 109th Marneri Dragons.

"So." Tregor clapped his hands together and faced them. "Our first priority is to see that all units are equipped as fully as possible. Second is to be ready to move in a few days' time down to positions closer to the shore. Fortification parties will be sent to particular locations where a ditch or bank might be useful later on. Of course, a lot has already been done at these places. Certain materials are kept there as a matter of course. The men stationed here at Kenor don't spend too much of it sitting about in the fort. Commander Keezar sees to that."

Hollein and the others chuckled. Outside of Oratio Keezar's presence, it was safe to chuckle at the older officer's famous energy and zeal.

"But there's still much to be done, so I think you will understand me when I say that I will eviscerate any of you who don't give me your last ounce of energy! We are in a perilous situation here, and I will not accept anything but your absolute best effort, every waking moment!"

For a moment there was a silence.

"Good," said Tregor.

The talk moved on to more detailed matters, such as the routes to the staging areas behind the Oon. When the meeting broke up, Tregor asked Kesepton to stay behind.

"Commander, I read your report; strange incident there in the swamp at Gideon's Landing."

"Yes, sir. Everyone who saw it will affirm that it was not lightning."

"We will make note of it. The witches have been informed, of course."

Hollein said nothing, which was the wisest course when witchcraft came up.

"So, Commander, tell me something. You have the 109th Marneri in the Eighth Regiment. You may remember that I made certain intemperate remarks concerning the 109th Marneri after they absconded outside Posila. At the time I was unaware of the gravity of the mission for which they had volunteered themselves."

"Yes, sir, I remember."

"Yes, I expect you might. Well, the 109th will be under my command again. I would not want to have any bad blood between us. Were the wyverns made aware of my remarks?"

"Yes sir, I'm sure they must have been. I don't think they would have expected anything else, sir. They did desert their posts, and they expected trouble. The dragons are like that, you see. They expect the rules to be applied. Very orderly in their ways the dragons are, sir."

"I expect they don't care much for me, then."

"They're not known for bearing grudges, sir. If anything, I expect that particular bunch would like an opportunity to show you you were wrong in your estimation of them. They seem confident and ready for anything."

Tregor chewed his lip a moment.

"Well, that is good of them. It was a very difficult moment, and I'm afraid I spoke before I knew all the facts." Tregor rubbed his hands together and nodded to himself. "That is a relief, then. One thing less to worry about."

The 109th were to fortify a narrow neck of land in the Big Side Swamp, behind the mouth of the Argo. On either side of the spot lay deep mires and bogs all the way to the river. For an enemy army, the neck would be an essential route if they were to get off the riverbank and further inland. Excellent maps had been prepared of all of Kenor by the Imperial Cartography Institute, and Hollein took another copy of the area map, in which each inch represented a mile. The terrain beyond the fort was broken up by swamps and lakes that verged into swamps. Tregor's words about rope came back to him. He would redouble his efforts to prise more out of the quartermaster.

As Hollein was about to leave, Tregor picked up his report of the incident in the swamp.

"And so, Commander, what did you make of the disturbance you witnessed out there?"

Hollein considered for but a moment. "It was no natural phenomenon, sir. Sorcery of some kind, very great sorcery indeed."

For the thousandth time Lessis wished they still had the batrukh Ridge Eyes that she had ridden across the distant dark continent of Eigo. It made travel so swift to fly by batrukh. Of course, it was a little heart-stopping as it hurled itself through the skies on immense wings, but it got you places in a hurry. Much faster than traveling on horseback.

Lessis was still saddle sore. It was always painful getting reacquainted with the saddle after a long absence, and at her age it took even longer. They had been riding for two weeks, all the way from Marneri. They had paused briefly at Dalhousie to resupply before heading on north and west, past Mount Ulmo and onto the Gan, the vast steppes that occupied the flatland all the way to the distant mountains of the White Bones.

For days they had ridden deeper into the grasslands, pushing their horses to the limit, searching for elusive landmarks and a meeting at Widows Rock with a witch spy who dwelled among the Baguti of the nearer Gan.

Lessis traveled with a party of six and a string of twelve horses. Beside her was Lagdalen, once more her assistant, despite all the promises that her service in this way had ended. Behind them rode Mirk of Defwode, Lessis's grim-faced bodyguard. Ahead, halfway to the horizon, rode three tall young men from the Imperial Guard, named Beruyn, Ward, and Mellicent. The emperor had insisted she accept them, the pick of two hundred volunteers. And there was a new sensitive, a willowy young man named Giles of Corve, a youth of seventeen summers, quiet and unobtrusive, with a diffident manner. You would hardly imagine that he could track almost any person across a bare desert, following some scrap of the pursued's aura. It was uncanny, this power.

In this region the Gan was a tawny sea of tall brown grasses, softly whispering in the wind. The land was not absolutely flat, for there were ripples and low hills. The golden light of late afternoon flecked the land in crescents. Where the rivers cut the land there were stands of aspen, dwarf oak, and bogs full of white birch.

Lessis had borrowed a sextant and chronometer from Irene to keep track of their position. She took readings every so often, and made annotations in a small leather-bound notebook, tracing their progress on the map, which she carried in a small leather tube in her knapsack.