Read Dragons of War Online

Authors: Christopher Rowley

Dragons of War (38 page)

BOOK: Dragons of War
12.7Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Manuel was undeterred. "You're plotting something, I know it. I know the way you snap your jaws like that. Why won't you let me know what it is?"

"It not concern dragonboy, it only dragon business."

Alsebra, the pale green freemartin, moved closer.

"They are coming, I see them."

Bazil and the Purple Green kept their heads down. The freemartin had the best eyes in the squadron. If she had seen the Baguti, then the Baguti were there.

The Purple Green made sure his legion issue sword was loose in its giant scabbard. He squatted back on his huge haunches and assumed a bipedal position while he worked his shield free of the shoulder straps and slipped it onto his left forelimb. Then he crouched lower and brought out his legion issue sword. Manuel was beside him, fussing with the straps at the back of the joboquin.

Bazil leaned his head close to the wild one. "You do that without thinking now. You are legion dragon, wild friend."

The Purple Green hissed derisively even as Manuel finished tightening the straps.

A group of soldiers scuttled by, bent over, heading down to the river, their spears carried low.

Dragon Leader Turrent appeared out of the reeds.

"We go, after these men. Quietly now."

No one had to tell the dragons to move quietly. Despite their great bulk, they were able to slide through the reeds with hardly a sound. In places, they went down on all fours. At muddy wallows, they wriggled across and lifted dragonboys over the worst places. By the time they reached the edge of the trail, they were covered in mud and so were their joboquins.

Then they were close enough to smell the enemy horses. A few steps closer and those with sensitive noses could smell the Baguti. They accelerated, huge feet digging into the soft ground, and now they could see their target. They surged forward the last few feet and erupted out of the reeds and onto the Baguti.

For the nomads, it was a complete surprise. The reeds parted, and a swarm of great armored Gazaki came lurching toward them. Horses panicked, reared, screamed in terror. Men were thrown, Baguti riders were tossed off their horses, an unheard of thing. The rest fought to subdue their mounts and draw their bows.

Arrows from dragonboy crossbows were already dropping riders, and then the dragons were on them.

Ecator flashed high and came around in a roundhouse chop, and the first Baguti was decapitated in an instant. The riderless horse bolted away.

A Baguti horse, riderless, fell into the river. Others were riding their mounts out into the stream to try and swim them out of range of those terrible swords. Alsebra was in the water among them, however, and "Undaunt" whirled about her claiming heads, bisecting men freely.

The Purple Green had slain two Baguti and a horse, his sword killing it instantly, almost removing the head and the neck in a single blow.

It was not the only horse down. Vlok had killed one Baguti with a clumsy overhand. The sword had cut the rider in half and bit deep into the horse's spine.

Vlok stared down stupidly at the poor beast until Alsebra splashed ashore and took the horse's head with Undaunt.

"Put the animal out of its misery next time, Vlok," she hissed.

The Baguti were gone, riding hard back down the trail, their cries swelling with grief and rage. There were damnable Gazaki, great green and brown Gazaki in the reeds. They most disliked this aspect of the campaign. It was unnerving to men who had spent their lives as ruthless raiders from the steppes. It was they who struck terror in others, who killed at will and took slaves. But against Gazak, no man could stand and thus they rode back in shame.

"Send up the thrice-damned trolls," they called. Then they wept the savage tears of barbarians for their dead.

The enemy column convulsed and a party of trolls thirty strong was sent lumbering up the trail. Two hundred imps went with them. But the ambush party was already moving rapidly away through the reeds to another, secret trail, and Bazil and the Purple Green were each carrying half of one of the small Baguti horses.

Dragon Leader Turrent said nothing, although he did not like it. Technically it was not against any known regulation. Dragons, in fact, were allowed to eat the corpses of trolls and other wild animals that came their way while on active service. Troll was incredibly tough, of course, and dragons were not overly fond of it. Although once it was cooked thoroughly, it was reasonable and had something of the flavor of mutton.

Turrent decided to remain silent. If the dragons wanted to carry half a dead horse apiece around the country, they could—although it was making a shocking mess of their already muddy joboquins. He would expect everything cleaned to perfection by the next parade.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

They marched along hidden trails across the reed plain and eventually up into a forest of aspens and birch where they came upon a campsite set up by some of the Talion cavalry troopers. A big fire was going, and there were a half-dozen cooks at work.

It was announced they were to rest while some food was boiled up. They would probably stay at this camp for the night and move on in the morning.

Captain Eads was out with another ambush party, on a bold effort to scatter the head of the enemy's main column where the trail passed between two areas thick with quicksand. Eads hoped to gain a few more precious hours delay for the column of terrified refugees a few miles ahead, stumbling desperately eastward, toward the mountains.

Bazil, Vlok, and Alsebra were all near exhaustion after the ambush and a twelve-mile march. After peeling off filthy joboquins, they lay down among some tumbled boulders and went straight to sleep. The Purple Green had other concerns, however. He took his sword and went out into the nearby trees. He returned after a while with several huge bundles of wood, which he persuaded a soldier to light for him, he having no skill in the making of a fire.

Eventually he had a blaze, and while it burned down to a pile of hot embers, the Purple Green hacked the two halves of the horse into legs, ribs, and butts, and slid his sword through a leg and set it over the heat. Soon it smoked and sizzled, and the smell of roasting flesh wafted over the temporary camp.

Almost instantly the dragons awoke. One by one their nostrils twitched a moment, and then their great predatory eyes snapped open, their heads stirred, and they licked the air a few times, tasting the strange, sweet-smelling meat smoke.

Dragonboys stirred next, disturbed by the smell and the sudden movements of huge bodies.

Very quickly, the Purple Green found himself with an audience of three wyverns who stared at the roasting leg of horse with fascinated eyes.

The Purple Green merely grunted in reply.

"That smell very good. You will share some with us?" said Vlok.

"I carried this meat all afternoon. Now you want me to feed you. Are you fresh from the egg and in need of feeding? Where is your mother then?"

Vlok was puzzled by this response.

"I am Vlok, you know me."

The Purple Green nodded.

"But it is horse, is it not?" Alsebra spoke up.

"Yes, it is the horse we carried."

"I was raised to care for horses," she said. "I will not eat them."

The Purple Green nodded as if he had expected this response from her.

"They are boiling noodles," he said with a clack of the jaws.

And it was true, there were four great cauldrons boiling on the campfires.

"I would like to eat some," said Vlok.

"But you did not carry it all the way from the ambush in the plain of reeds."

Vlok fell silent. He had not. In fact, if anything he had scorned them for bothering.

Bazil leaned forward with tingling nostrils.

The boy was suddenly at his side.

"Alsebra's right, Baz, you shouldn't eat horse. Men don't do it, unless they're starving."

"That is because men ride on horses. Men have a different relationship to this animal. To dragon it is good meat. Besides, it was already dead, and if we had left it then the trolls would have had it."

The Purple Green tore the haunch apart and handed Bazil half. Relkin moved away in disgust. Behind him he heard dragon jaws chomping and grinding while Vlok licked the air and muttered to himself.

Relkin went over to the cook pit where noodles were boiling and some flat bread had been baked.

Alsebra was already there, and Bryon had filled her helmet with noodles and akh.

"It's horrible what those two are doing," said Bryon.

"I tried," Relkin shrugged.

"Vlok is just slavering for some."

"You know, I think Swane is also."

Bryon made a face. "It seems wrong to me."

"It is not logical," said Alsebra towering above them.

"Why do you say that?" said Relkin.

"Men eat some animals but not others. Dragons eat all animals without exception."

"Even bears?" said Relkin.

"Even bears, even whales. But dragons like to eat some animals more than others. Men like to eat some animals more than others, too. The difference is that men have made more rules about this. Dragons have no rules. Men make rules, and with those rules men organize the whole world."

Relkin was already aware that Alsebra was at the opposite end of the spectrum of intelligence from poor old Vlok.

"But Alsebra does not eat horse," said Bryon.

"But I am not a wild dragon. I grew up from the egg in a place with many horses. I found them beautiful. I would not eat one anymore than you would eat a cat or a dog."

"Ugh," said Bryon.

"You see. But it is not logical."

"They are enjoying it," said Relkin, after a hurried look over his shoulder.

"It does smell delicious, but…" Bryon made a face and bent to his noodles.

The Purple Green continued to ignore Vlok. At last, after a nudge or two from Bazil, the Purple Green stopped tormenting poor Vlok and gave him some ribs. Then they ate in silence for a few minutes. By then there was nothing left except a few of the largest bones.

The Purple Green was satisfied.

"That was good. This dragon approves of the way men burn food to make it taste. Much stronger flavor than the old way."

"A lot more work, though," said Vlok, who while not bright was capable of understanding that much.

"But when one eats such good things only occasionally, then it is worth it, no?"

"Yes," said Vlok, without hesitation, "it is worth the trouble. This is an important discovery for Vlok."

"Vlok did not discover this, I discover this," said the Purple Green.

"No, I mean yes. What I meant was that for me, personally, this was a discovery. A new thing. I had not thought about it before."

The Purple Green was going to say something unkind, when he felt a nudge from the Broketail. Vlok was Vlok, and there was no point in ragging his scales.

There was a silence for a while before the Purple Green returned to his new and abiding interest in gastronomic experience.

"What would bear be like if we roast it?"

"Bear? Have you ever eaten bear?" said Vlok.

"Of course," said the Purple Green. "I have eaten the brown bears and the white bear. I have not eaten the small black bear, however. They are not common where I used to hunt. Bear is strong meat."

"Do you think putting it over heat would improve the flavor?" said Bazil, aroused to interest again. That horse had tasted good. Still, there was a vague sense of guilt, thanks to the boy and the damned human superstition, trying to spoil everything.

"I think it would be good to try it," said the Purple Green.

These ruminations about ursine cookery were interrupted by the arrival of a horseman, a messenger from the ambush site a few miles away. Something had happened, it was obvious from the speed with which the fellow rode up to the command post. A few seconds later, Dragon Leader Turrent came running at full pelt.

"On your feet, everyone, we've got to move. There's been an upset, and the enemy is coming on very fast."

"How bad is it, Dragon Leader?" said Swane.

"Captain Eads has been wounded, but not badly. There have been casualties."

"Dragon casualties?"

"Anther is wounded. But he still walks. Now, get going, Dragoneer, we don't have time to chat."

There was a scramble of activity as joboquins and equipment were taken up again. Packs went back on their backs, and then they were marching east away from the enemy, with roast horse now but a memory.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Cuica crossed the Ice Mountains on favorable winds, threading his way westward through the mighty peaks, skimming across vast glaciers, and finally reaching the inner Hazog, a high plateau, bare and cold, that stretched away into the interior of the great continent.

The eagle was late. The small passengers it carried were possessed of a colossal anxiety that communicated itself even to the eagle. Time was precious, but even time would have to wait while the eagle fed to renew its strength.

Cuica, a full-grown wulfeagle, was capable of covering hundreds of miles in a day with favorable winds, but after crossing the High Gan, he had run into a powerful storm tracking eastward from the outer Hazog. All day and all night the eagle and the two small animals it carried, waited in a cranny high up on the White Bones Mountains as the storm howled past. To stay alive, the mouse and the bird fed on the precious store of grain carried in a tiny satchel strapped to the eagle's leg. For Cuica, there was nothing to eat. And so, when at last the storm had passed on, the eagle had dropped from the cliff to hunt.

An elderly rabbit out upon an alpine meadow was sighted almost at once, and Cuica silently stooped from the sky and struck cleanly. He took the rabbit and beat his way upward to the distant cranny, driven by an obscure urge to feed the small beings that were up there.

Lagdalen had established an understanding of the eagle and a method for cohabiting in the eagle mind. The difficult part was learning to relax and let the eagle go about its business. Lagdalen only interfered when the eagle decided to turn about and head for better hunting grounds to the east and south. The farther they proceeded into the west, the stronger and more frequent were these urges. At such times Lagdalen felt the bird's thought, felt its desire to turn, to find lusher slopes where there would be more rabbits, perhaps even rock hyraxes, ground squirrels, and other tasty small creatures. At such times Lagdalen overrode the eagle's mind and kept the great wings fixed, and the bird headed steadily west. Cuica was largely unaware of her presence except on these occasions, when he felt a shadow in the back of his thought. For the most part he ignored it. Feeling vaguely dissatisfied, he continued on the strange westward course into lands that were unfamiliar to him.

BOOK: Dragons of War
12.7Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

Other books

Alias Hook by Lisa Jensen
A Matter of Temptation by Lorraine Heath
Far from Blind by S.J. Maylee
The Talented by J.R. McGinnity
How to Disappear by Duncan Fallowell
The Broken Chariot by Alan Sillitoe
Black Hull by Joseph A. Turkot
Koban 4: Shattered Worlds by Stephen W. Bennett
Suzanna Medeiros by Lady Hathaway's Indecent Proposal