Dragonback 04 Dragon and Herdsman (15 page)

But if Frost had been clever enough to put in trackers, maybe he'd
been clever enough for something else, too.

Experimentally, Jack swung the weapon in a horizontal arc. As he
did so, a small red light just below the sight winked on and then off.
He'd guessed right: along with the trackers, Frost had also included a
friend/foe system to warn his soldiers if they were pointing their
weapons at one another.

On the surface, the arrangement made a lot of sense. Even with
night-sight goggles, vision in the middle of a forest was pretty
limited. And with these lopsided odds. Jack and Alison could shoot at
pretty much anything that moved, while their opponents had to be
careful not to shoot one another in the confusion of battle.

The downside to the system was that once Jack had one of their
guns, as he did now, all he had to do was find a line of fire that gave
him a red dot and pull the trigger.

Problem was, the tangler didn't have nearly enough range to poke
its way through all the undergrowth. That just left him the machine
gun, and that would mean killing them.

His stomach twisted into a fresh knot. He'd never in his life
killed anyone, and he didn't really want to start now. At some point it
might become necessary, but that wasn't a decision he was ready to make
on his own.

Fortunately, if he did this right, he wouldn't have to.

He swept the gun in a complete circle, noting where the lights
went on. The Malison Ring soldiers didn't yet have him surrounded,
though they were definitely working on it. From what Frost had said,
they would probably wait until they had a complete circle before moving
in.

That should give him just enough time.

He set the gun down beside the tree where Draycos had left him.
Returning to the half-webbed soldier, he dragged the man over to the
tree and rolled him into concealment beneath the reeds. He wrapped the
other's limp hands around the gun, propping the weapon up on a couple
of sticks. On an infrared viewer, the whole thing ought to look like
someone lying quietly in ambush. Digging one last time beneath the
tangler threads, Jack helped himself to the soldier's two concussion
grenades. Then, taking a moment to heap a few handfuls of dead leaves
over the soldier's legs for extra concealment, he returned to where the
other three soldiers were sprawled.

Even with the limitations of night-vision systems. Jack's clothing
would never pass as a Malison Ring uniform, and there wasn't enough
time for him to swatch outfits with someone else. But there were other
ways. Lying down on the ground beside one of the soldiers, Jack rolled
the unconscious man up onto him, leaving only his helmeted head showing.

Again, it wasn't something that would hold up to close
examination. But Jack had no intention of giving Dumbarton's soldiers
that much time. Turning his head to face the tree where the fake ambush
was waiting, he pulled the pin from one of the grenades and lay still.

The soldiers were good, all right. Even with the darkness and
distant noise, Jack had expected he would spot
some
sign of
their arrival. But his first warning was the sudden flurry of tangler
shots spattering the decoy's position from all directions. "Done,"
Dumbarton's voice came in Jack's car.

"You got him?" Frost asked.

"We got him and a half," Dumbarton reported, a note of
satisfaction in his voice.

"Watch it," Frost warned. "This kid's clever—"

"Colonel!" a new voice cut in. "I think I just spotted the K'da!"

"Where?" Frost snapped. "Up on a tree near the girl."

"Hammerstein said they already nailed him," Dumbarton objected.

"I guess Hammerstein was wrong," Frost said icily. "What's
your
excuse, Caprizini?"

There was a sputter of gunfire. "Can't get him from here,"
Caprizini said. "The trunk's too thick."

"Is he close enough to the ground to use a grenade?"

"He's too close to the girl," Caprizini said.

"Then just keep him pinned," Frost said. "As soon as Dumbarton's
got Morgan, he can get over there and flank him."

"Do we still need the girl?" someone put in. "I thought we mostly
wanted Morgan."

"Let's make sure we actually have Morgan first," Frost said.
"Dumbarton, move in. Slow and careful."

"Copy."

There was a rustling in the bushes. Jack eased his head up a bit
and saw a circle of shadowy figures closing in on the decoy's position.
Something moved at the corner of his eye, and he flinched slightly as
one of the soldiers took a long step over him and the man he was hiding
beneath. The circle closed to within three yards of the tree.

And with a flip of his wrist, Jack lobbed the grenade right into
the center.

He had expected a mild concussion blast like the ones created by
the grenades he'd worked with back with the Whinyard's Edge. They were
small, civilized things that would knock down everyone for three yards
and leave them stunned and confused for a few minutes.

Unfortunately for Dumbarton and his buddies, the Malison Ring used
much more powerful grenades.

The blast was deafening, the sound slamming into Jack like a
runaway truck. The shock wave was even worse, lifting the unconscious
soldier on top of him a couple of inches into the air and shoving him
right off onto the ground.

Carefully, struggling to keep his balance. Jack pulled himself
upright. He was shaking all over, half his body numb, and
he'd
been lying flat on the ground when the grenade went off. The soldiers
who'd been moving toward the blast would be lucky if they were out of
bed in a week.

There were voices coming from the helmet comm, but it was
impossible to make out the words through the ringing in his ears.
Pulling off the helmet, he tucked it under his arm and gave his ears a
careful rub. His hearing was starting to come back, fortunately. Still
rubbing at his ears, he turned toward the north.

And sprawled flat on his back as a pair of glowing silver eyes
appeared squarely in front of him.

"
Blast
it," he muttered, scrambling back to his feet. It
was the gray female Phooka, of course, the one Draycos had dubbed
Taneem. "Don't
do
that."

Taneem cocked her head quizzically to the side and started to back
up. "Wait a second," Jack said, stepping toward her as an idea started
to sift through his still-dazed brain. The soldiers near Alison's
position had said they had Draycos pinned up a tree.

But if they now saw Draycos on the ground running away . . .

"I need you to do something for me, Taneem," he said, gingerly
cupping his hand under the Phooka's triangular jaw. She twitched a
little at his touch but didn't try to pull away. "I need you to run
north—that way"—he pointed—"until you find your other people and the
Erassvas. Can you do that?"

She cocked her head again, her glowing eyes steady on him. Then,
abruptly, she turned and bounded off through the trees.

"Right," Jack muttered under his breath. Whether she'd understood
any of that or not, at least she
was
headed north. Now if she
would just keep going past the Malison Ring soldiers and not get
distracted by a pretty butterfly, this might work.

He could only hope she would also run past the soldiers fast
enough to keep herself from getting shot.

But there was nothing he could do about that now. Settling the
helmet back onto his head, trying to listen to the chatter through his
still-ringing ears, he headed after her.

There was a flat
crack
, and even at his distance Draycos
felt a ripple of the shock wave roll over his scales. From the sound
and the lack of flame, he guessed it had come from a concussion-type
grenade.

And it seemed to have come from near the spot where he'd left Jack.

Had the boy been captured?

He hissed in frustration. But whatever had happened to Jack, there
wasn't anything Draycos could do about it right now. The soldiers below
continued to plaster his tree with gunfire, the machine-gun rounds
slowly but steadily chipping away at the edges of the trunk.

So far, Alison's own gunfire was keeping them from leaving their
positions and coming around to where they could get a better shot. But
sooner or later her weapon would run dry, or reinforcements would
arrive, or the hail of metal would simply chew away enough of the tree
for them to get to him.

They were making considerable progress toward that last goal, in
fact. Already a couple of inches on each side of the trunk had been
splintered away, forcing him to tuck his legs more tightly against his
body to stay clear. Other rounds were hammering against the back of the
tree, and he could only imagine how much more damage was being done
back there. Two to three more minutes, if they didn't run out of
ammunition, and they would start hitting him.

Unless . . .

He twisted his head around to look upward along the trunk. It was
tall enough, he decided, and in the faint and sputtering light of the
gunfire it looked like the top section was leaning the right way.

There was one way to find out for sure. Turning to face downward
again, he made sure he had a solid grip on the trunk with his hind
paws. Then, extending his forepaw claws, he began digging into the
trunk in front of him.

By the time the flying splinters began jabbing against his scales,
he'd carved a groove perhaps two inches deep into the wood. That might
not be deep enough; but whether it was or not, he'd run out of time.
Digging his foreleg claws into the tree beneath the groove, he leaned
forward, pushing as hard as he could against the upper part of the tree
with his hind legs.

Nothing happened. Setting his jaw, he pushed again. Still nothing.
Even with the tree as badly damaged as it was, he simply didn't have
the leverage to break the top section free.

And then, as he tried to think of something else to try, there was
a startled shout from below him. The gunfire faltered; and then, to his
surprise, it started up again at full force.

But this volley wasn't directed at him and his tree. Instead, it
seemed to be concentrated on something at ground level.

Jack
? Hissing helplessly between his teeth, Draycos forced
himself to look.

But it wasn't the boy he spotted running at full speed through the
trees. It was, instead, one of the Phookas.

How the creature had ended up here in the middle of the battle he
couldn't guess. But for the moment, that didn't matter. What mattered
was that with the mercenaries' attention distracted, he finally had a
chance to move.

He twisted around on the tree, half-expecting to get shot in the
process. But the soldiers' full attention was apparently on the
sprinting Phooka below. Digging his claws into the wood, he headed up,
climbing onto the thinner sections of trunk where there was little
protection from gunfire from below.

But again, the mercenaries were apparently not watching. He
reached a main branch extending outward in the direction of the
soldiers and leaped onto it, running as far along it as he could.

The branch seemed to dip beneath his weight. Then, from below and
behind him, he heard the sharp crack of fracturing wood. He stopped and
turned back around.

And as he did so, the tree finally broke. Slowly, almost
majestically, the top bowed over and began to topple toward the
soldiers below. Holding tightly to his branch, Draycos rode it down.

The treetop didn't make it all the way to the ground, of
course—the forest was far too dense for that. Instead, it tore its way
noisily through the surrounding trees, ripping off its own branches and
twigs as well as theirs, before getting caught up in larger branches
and stopping a dozen feet above the ground.

But that was all Draycos needed. Caught in the rain of debris,
with the spectacle of a tree falling toward them, the mercenaries had
reacted exactly as he'd expected. Abandoning their positions, they were
scrambling madly to get out of the way.

And as the treetop settled reluctantly to a halt, Draycos attacked.

It was no contest. Between Draycos's earlier tangler attack, the
incident with the concussion grenade—whatever exactly had happened with
that—and now the falling treetop, the soldiers had had one confusing
distraction too many.

He caught the first two completely off-guard, knocking them out
with blows to the sides of their necks before they even knew he was
there. The third was able to turn nearly all the way around before
Draycos sent him to join the other two. The fourth and fifth managed to
get all the way around, and the fifth was even able to get off a wild
shot.

And with that, it was over.

Or at least, Draycos hoped it was over. Crouching low to the
ground, his senses alert, he scanned the area to the south. If Frost
had sent in reinforcements, they could be arriving at any time.

Across the way, a figure wearing a Malison Ring helmet emerged
from between a pair of trees. Draycos tensed but then relaxed as a hint
of the newcomer's scent touched his nostrils and tongue. It was Jack,
alive and apparently well.

There hadn't been any fire from Alison's position since the
treetop had come down. Still, Draycos doubted she had lost any of her
watchfulness. Keeping a wary eye in that direction, he headed toward
the distant figure.

Jack had taken off the helmet by the time he arrived. "You've been
a busy little dragon, haven't you?" he commented as he surveyed the
area.

"And the busyness is going to continue," Draycos said. "We must
leave before reinforcements arrive."

Jack shook his head. "Don't worry about it," he said. "Frost has
another wave on the way, but I'm guessing they're just coming to
retrieve this first bunch." He grinned tightly. "He wants them back
before you hamstring them like you did those first two."