Dragonforge (50 page)

After they’d tested a hundred men and found only two with sufficiently sharp eyes, Pet said, “Burke, I know you’re a lot smarter than I am. But, isn’t this test tougher than it needs to be? We’re fighting dragons, not dinner plates.”

“True,” said Burke. “But your arrows are going to be mere specks at killing range. And while dragons are big targets, they only have a few body areas were a single arrow is going to knock them from the sky. If you can’t see where your arrow’s going, you can’t adjust your aim.”

Pet nodded. “Makes sense.”

Another candidate stepped up, a young man, boyish except for a wispy blond mustache. He was five feet tall at most, but looked wiry and tough. Pet felt there was something eerily familiar about the boy. The youth gave Burke a crisp salute.

“What’s your name, son?” Burke asked.

“Vance,” the young man answered.

“Where you from?”

“Stony Ford, sir.”

“Never heard of it. That one of the towns where Ragnar gave his ‘join or die’ speech?”

“No, sir,” said Vance. “It’s down the river a spell. My brother and I heard about the rebellion and came to take a stand, sir.”

Burke pointed toward Anza in the distance. “You see my daughter out there?”

Vance shielded his eyes from the sun. “Yes, sir.”

“What’s she holding above her head?”

“Looks like a plate, sir.”

Burke gave an approving nod. “And do you see something painted on the plate?”

“Yes, sir. Some kind of marking.”

“Good. It’s a letter. Can you tell me which letter?”

The boy shook his head. Burke looked disappointed.

The boy said, apologetically, “I don’t know one letter from another. But it looks like this.” The boy traced a serpentine shape in the air.

Burke smiled. “That’s an ‘S,’ boy. And you’re an archer now.”

The boy gave a wide smile.

“You won’t regret it, sir. Me and my brother were the best shots for miles around.”

“Excellent. Where’s your brother? What’s his name? Let’s get him to the front of the line.”

Vance looked solemn as he reported, “His name was Vinton, and he’s dead, sir. Vinton was charged with killing the disloyal gleaners the night we took the fort. We found him dead from an arrow shot. The two fellows he was running with were also killed. One had his head sliced clean off.”

Pet felt a chill run down his spine. Now he knew why the boy looked familiar. The rapist with the scratched cheek was a ringer for this boy if you added five years and thirty pounds.

“Sorry to hear it,” Burke said. “I’m sure Vinton was a good man.”

“Yes, sir,” said Vance. “One of the best.”

Burke gave a nod toward the ladder leading down the wall. “Go down and join the others. You’ll be given a bow. Later, we’ll start target practice. Welcome to the sky-wall.”

Vance couldn’t stop smiling as he climbed down the ladder.

Pet felt the need to say something about the boy’s brother.

“Don’t say anything,” Burke said, reading Pet’s mind.

“But…”

“But the past is past. As of now, Vance is your brother-at-arms. What happened before this moment is of no importance.”

Pet knew that Burke was right, but he couldn’t keep the scene from replaying in his mind. What could he have done differently? Would the world have been better if he’d just turned his back? If a dragon made it through the sky-wall, would he be haunted by the knowledge that Vinton might have fired the arrow that would have killed that dragon? He barely paid attention to the next candidate Burke tested. He was only broken out of his reverie by a sudden outcry from the eastern gate.

“Dragons!” someone was shouting.

“Four days,” Burke sighed. “So much for my fantasy of doing this with a well-trained army.”

The dragons weren’t
attacking, not yet. Instead, they gathered at a large field a mile downriver. Pet listened quietly as spies reported back to Ragnar, Burke, and the other leaders. Pet, as commander of the archers, was now privy to these meetings.

The lead spy, it turned out, was Shanna, the woman who’d rescued Pet from the dungeon. She hadn’t taken part in the raid on the Nest, but she had learned from her contacts that Blasphet had failed in his attempt at genocide. Only a handful of the sisters had managed to escape in the aftermath, but Shanna was confident there would be no valkyries joining in the attack on Dragon Forge. Blasphet hadn’t been found; the matriarch wasn’t letting anyone leave the Nest until his threat was neutralized.

Shanna was now dressed much more modestly than she had been as a servant of Blasphet. She was wearing the gray, non-descript clothing of a human slave. She hadn’t shaved her head in a week and already her scalp tattoos were vanishing beneath a haze of dark hair.

Burke listened impassively as the numbers were reported. Nearly ten thousand well-armed earth-dragons, with at least five hundred cavalry mounted on the backs of great-lizards. The earth-dragons had catapults and ballistae. There were also a thousand humans among the dragons, slaves working to assemble the tents, dig latrines, unload the supply wagons, and staff the mess tents.

“The supply wagons are the most dangerous thing we face,” Burke said. “If Shandrazel has any management skills at all, his army has access to all the food in the world. We have all the food inside the walls of Dragon Forge, which will last us, if we’re careful, a month.”

“I’m not eating those pickled earth-dragon babies,” said Pet.

“If a man gets hungry enough, he’ll eat anything,” said Burke.

“The Lord sent ravens to feed his prophet Elijah,” said Ragnar. “We shall have no want of provisions.”

Burke gave Ragnar a sideways glance and returned to questioning the spies. The next number that caught Pet’s attention was the figure of two hundred sun-dragons. He thought back to his former mistress, Chakthalla. She’d loved him like he was her child and had never mistreated him, but he remembered how intimidating she could be with her sheer size and power. Even as she had showered words of praise upon him, he’d never been completely unaware of the fact that those words came from a mouth that could have snapped him in two. As of this meeting, Burke’s manufacturing team had produced only thirty-six bows. Apparently, Burke had brought coils of cable from his tavern to use for the bowstrings, but those spools were now emptied. He’d assembled a machine to make new cable, but the process was a difficult one to calibrate, and the earliest batches were producing cables that were too brittle. If the dragons attacked soon, thirty-six sky-wall archers against two hundred sun-dragons wasn’t a promising ratio.

“How long it will be before the dragons finish assembling their army and decide to attack?” Pet asked.

Shanna shook her head. “We haven’t heard. Some say that Shandrazel is awaiting more troops from the Southern provinces.”

“That’s good and bad,” said Burke. “Good if we have more time—it would take at least a week for all those troops to arrive. But it’s bad if we wind up facing three times as many dragons.”

“However, it’s also said that Shandrazel is being prodded by Charkon to invade tomorrow at dawn,” said Shanna. “Charkon believes they have all the troops they need to take back the fortress.”

“Charkon is probably right,” said Burke. “But only because he doesn’t know about our surprises.”

“Surprises?” Pet asked, noting the plural. “Do we have something other than the wheel-bows?”

Burke nodded. “There’s Big Chief. I carted in most of his parts, and the team has him just about assembled. He’s mostly a psychological weapon. Earth-dragons aren’t terribly bright. They get confused and frightened easily by things they’ve never encountered before.”

Before Pet could ask further questions, Shanna stepped in with her own answer about surprises. “Our time with Blasphet has proven fruitful. We’ve learned how to make oil that, when burned, produces a smoke that paralyzes dragons. Unfortunately, it works best in a confined space. Also it requires a fungus that grows on peanuts, and Blasphet used most of his stockpile invading the Nest. I’ve had people producing a supply for us ever since I learned the secret, but we only have a few barrels. Still, if any dragons make it inside Dragon Forge, we can ignite the bonfires and spike them with the poison. We can put half the invaders to sleep if the wind is in our favor.”

“That sounds useful,” Pet said.

Shanna nodded. “That’s only part of the knowledge we’ve stolen from Blasphet. If we knew for certain that the attack was tomorrow, we could make life unpleasant for the invaders. There’s a tasteless, odorless mineral salt we can add to their breakfast that will produce diarrhea and vomiting three hours after its ingested. It doesn’t kill dragons, but it can make them wish they were dead.”

Ragnar spoke. “Tell your spies to poison tomorrow’s breakfast, Shanna. The Lord has revealed to me the attack will take place at dawn. Our ultimate weapon, of course, is the guiding hand of God.”

Burke took his spectacles from his nose and wiped them with his shirt. He said, in a thoughtful tone, “Not that I don’t trust the Lord’s word, but I’d like some insurance. Shanna, you’ve been good at gathering rumors. If we really want this attack to take place at dawn, I need you to spread one.”

“Do we want this attack to take place at dawn?” Pet asked. “Half my men don’t have weapons. We’ve had barely any training at all. We aren’t ready!”

Burke placed the spectacles back on his face as he nodded. “It’s true, we aren’t. But, right now, Shandrazel’s army is as small as it’s ever going to be. We’ll be better armed and better trained a week from now, but we aren’t going to have any more men. Shandrazel, on the other hand, might have doubled his army in that time. If he attacks tomorrow and finds half his army shitting themselves and the first wave of sun-dragons slain by our sky-wall, we’ll have achieved an important psychological victory. Shandrazel will no longer have the confidence of other dragons. If we’re lucky, his army will abandon him.”

“What if we’re not lucky?”

Burke shrugged.

Ragnar smiled. “We need not trust in luck. The Lord is on our side.”

Pet sighed. “Fine. I just wish I had more time for my men to practice.”

Burke grinned grimly. “As you pointed out, we’re not fighting dinner plates. Your men have a target forty feet across to shoot at. It’s like hitting a barn wall.”

“A barn wall moving straight overhead and dropping darts on us. Still, I’m not arguing. Your reasons for wanting the attack tomorrow make sense.”

“So what rumor do you want me to start?” Shanna asked.

“Say that we’re unprepared. Say we’re outnumbered five to one already.”

“That’s a cutting a mighty fine line between a rumor and actual intelligence,” said Shanna.

Burke nodded. “Most of all, make sure the dragons know that a man named Kanati is in here. It’s vital that Charkon hears that name.”

“Why Charkon?” Pet asked. “He already wants to attack tomorrow.”

“Yes. But he’s a good soldier and will wait until Shandrazel gives the word. Once Charkon hears the name Kanati, he’ll stop taking orders from Shandrazel and start giving them. He’ll make this attack happen no matter what Shandrazel wants.”

“Why?” Pet asked. “Who’s Kanati?”

“I am, or used to be,” said Burke. “And since you’ve met Charkon, you might have noticed he’s one ugly son-of-a-bitch.”

“That scar,” said Pet, shuddering. “Half his face is practically gone.”

“I only wish I’d swung hard enough to cut through to the other half,” said Burke.

At dawn, as
the dragons came, snow began to fall. During the night, Burke had fine-tuned the cable-making machine. Now Pet had bows in the hands of three-score men, and nearly three dozen arrows for each of them. Delicate snowflakes settled gently on the filthy gray-brown blanket Pet had turned into a cape. All around him, his men stood in silence as the sun crept over the horizon. The rust heaps and scraggly trees cast long, dark shadows over the faint film of white snow on the ground.

The rising sun tinted the shroud of low clouds subtle shades of pink. In all, it was a serene winter landscape, a picture of peace, save for the hordes of dull green dragons pouring over the distant hills and charging the walls of Dragon Forge.

Pet cast his eyes skyward. The earth-dragons weren’t his concern. A different squad of archers, armed with traditional bows, would be responsible for seeing that the earth-dragons didn’t reach the walls. His duty was to scan the clouds for the first signs of sun-dragons. Slowly, one by one, their dark ruby forms emerged from the shrouding snowfall.

There were at least seventy in the initial wave, coming in at a height of five hundred yards, all carrying large buckets in their hind claws. The buckets would be full of iron darts. The dragons wouldn’t even bother to aim, Pet knew. They need simply dump their cargo above the town and fill the winter sky with something much more deadly than snow. The men on the walls would either be killed, or forced into shelter, leaving the earth-dragons free to storm the gates and overwhelm the city. It was a time-honored strategy of the dragons, one that had crushed human uprisings for centuries.

As the dragons neared, Pet ran the back of his hand along his scratchy mustache. The mineral oil Burke used to lubricate the wheel-bows had thoroughly coated his fingers by now. It smelled faintly of pine.

“Aim!” Pet shouted. He drew a bead on an approaching sun-dragon. His lifelong familiarity with the beasts allowed him to judge their true distance against the trackless sky. He knew the dragons could see his men and their bows; they’d lose all element of surprise the second the first arrows flew. He had to wait until he was certain they would be in range.

He held his aim a few seconds, then a few seconds more, calculating the dragons' speed. Pet targeted the empty sky, aiming at the spot where the dragon would be when the arrow reached it, then shouted, “Fire!”

Arrows flash upward like frozen shards of light. The snapping steel bowstrings made the wall sound as if a large harpsichord were being stroked by a giant—
zing, zing, zang, zing, zang!
For an instant, Pet worried he’d overshot his target, until the sun-dragon dropped his bucket. The crimson-beast doubled over, clutching the arrow in its gut. A half dozen of its brethren performed similar aerial contortions before they began to plummet from the sky. The dragons that followed veered and wheeled away as the seven struck in the initial volley fell. Keeping his eyes on the sky, Pet paid no attention to where the bodies landed. He’d already drawn another arrow.