A Sword for a Dragon (35 page)

The dragonboys of the 109th went down Fatan Street every day to collect the evening ration. For this purpose, they used the cook’s cart, which was pulled by a pair of steady mules named Darcy and Sorrow.

The third day after their fight in the mine was like any other. The boys, although sore and weary, roused themselves and took the cart to the granary. There they loaded sacks of barley and oats. A few withered turnips and some onions from the emperor’s vegetable garden were all they had to liven up the resulting grain mush. But at least everyone’s belly would be full at supper time.

Relkin still had a field dressing on his head, but he’d been back on his feet for a day and a half and returned to duty.

Despite a vigorous scrubbing, his jacket was still heavily stained with blood, however, and his breeches were torn at the knees. Even his bandage was grubby. But when he looked around himself at the others, he saw that he was not alone in his scruffiness. They were all looking battered. Swane of Revenant had a head bandage, too, and his shirt was open revealing another bandage wrapped around his chest. Tomas Black Eye had cuts and abrasions all over his face where he’d slammed into a shield. Shim had a broken nose, and Mono was limping. Everyone’s clothes reflected the wear and tear of the battle underground.

Still, when they reached the granary, each one of them took his place in the line, moving the sacks of oatmeal and barley to the loading dock. After a check by the guards on the dock, they loaded the grain onto the cook’s wagon.

While they were staggering about with the sixty-pound sacks of barley, some officers on horseback rode in and dismounted. Relkin hardly looked up since he was bent under another sixty-pound sack at the time. He dropped it into the cart and turned around to find Captain Kesepton standing there. After a salute and an embrace, Kesepton held him at arm’s length.

“Thanks to the Mother, you survived.” He frowned. “But only just. Lagdalen told me you’d been in the infirmary. You were asleep while she visited you, but the broketail dragon was there, and he told her all about your condition.”

“Lagdalen came? He didn’t tell me. I am sorry that I could not have been awake for her visit.”

Kesepton gripped the youth’s shoulder hard for a moment.

“We will never forget what you did, the two of you. I feel as if I owe you for my own life. I know that the Tarcho will want to reward you somehow. In fact, I think you’re going to find yourselves quite legendary by the time we get home again.”

Relkin looked down, suddenly embarrassed. The others were sneaking looks at him from the corners of their eyes. And just when he’d been beating down his old reputation as a braggart.

“The dragon would not leave the island without Lagdalen dragon friend,” he said. “She is very special to us.”

“I believe it,” said Hollein. “And we were grieved by the news of that fight in the mine. Especially when we heard that you had fallen.”

“It was hot work,” said Relkin. The other boys murmured in agreement. “Worse than Salpalangum anyway.”

“But the fighting 109th got the job done once again,” said Kesepton in a slightly louder voice to include all the dragonboys.

The boys looked proudly at one another.

“The dragons fought like demons, sir. You should have seen it,” said someone.

“So I heard, and I heard that the dragonboys fought hard, too, and took plenty of knocks.”

“Everyone’s still at their posts, sir,” said Relkin.

“A tough bunch, that’s what I hear.” Kesepton took Relkin aside for a moment.

“Dragoneer, I want you to report to the infirmary once you’ve taken that lot back to the gate. That dressing needs changing.”

“Sir?”

“And Lagdalen is there today, and she would love to see you.”

Relkin’s face brightened at once. “Yes, sir, Captain.”

The sound of horses’ hooves interrupted them. A group of officers rode into the loading dock. In their midst was General Paxion himself. The general made frequent, unexpected visits to the granary. He was determined to ensure a disciplined control over the city’s food supply during the crisis. There would be no corruption on Paxion’s watch, ever.

He dismounted and personally checked the logbook. Carrying it in his hands, he came to the edge of the dock and saluted the dragonboys.

“Well-done, you lot. The 109th are living up to their reputation as the best damned squadron we have!”

The boys visibly swelled and returned the general’s salute with unusual crispness. Then Paxion spotted Relkin, and Kesepton and strode toward them.

“And may I add how glad I was to hear of your survival, young Dragoneer. Heard you’d taken a knock.”

“Thank you, sir, but I’m alright, sir.”

“Good, though you need to do something about that jacket, Dragoneer, it’s a disgrace.”

“Yes, sir.”

Paxion softened and smiled. “And tell me, young man, how is our friend the wild Purple Green doing?”

“He’s adjusting still, I’m afraid. He finds the food very boring.”

“I expect he does. But at least it’s regular, eh?”

“Yes, sir.”

“How about his feet? I was worried about his feet. His kind are more used to flying than to marching.”

“We solved his foot problem. I had him wear some sandals. Got them made back in Fort Dalhousie.”

“Sandals, eh? Ingenious. Well, carry on, Dragoneer.” Paxion turned to Kesepton.

“Captain, a word with you, I have a message for the Lady Ribela.”

Kesepton and General Paxion strode away. Relkin rejoined the others and the cook’s wagon trundled off with Darcy and Sorrow at the head. As they went, Relkin found all the other soldiers staring at him with considerable interest. It was not every day that they saw the general chat with a dragonboy.

Relkin’s thoughts were whirling with strange ambitions. So, Relkin Orphanboy and the broketail dragon were going to be legends by the time they got home. And General Paxion was interested in the wild dragon and even spoke to a mere dragonboy about him. It seemed that great things lay in their future.

Then he remembered where he was and what lay outside the city walls. The future might just as likely include death in the coming struggle.

Relkin said little as they walked back up Fatan Street and ignored the few digs that Swane of Revenant tossed his way. The native Ourdhi stared at them with hatred and suspicion. Oaths and loud spitting followed their passage. Women made the sign of the evil eye. Relkin ignored it all.

At last they reached the end of their route. The bulk of the city walls and the massive gate towers loomed over them. They unloaded the grain at the cook’s station and then went to fetch water.

When the water was set to boil, the boys went back to their dragons and passed around the happy news that food was being prepared.

After eating his bowl of oatmeal and onions, Relkin quickly climbed the tower and examined the scene outside the walls.

“It is finished,” said Mono, who was already there.

“Yes, I can see that,” said Relkin.

The last siege tower on their front was completed. The hammering had ceased. It was sixty feet tall and stood upon four huge wheels at the base. Its front and sides were clad in hides that were constantly wetted, and it was roofed stoutly with beams covered in copper. At the top it was thirty feet wide, and there were stairs all the way down the back for the enemy hordes to climb.

“Won’t be long then,” said Relkin, feeling a pang of dread. Four towers at once. Mud men coming over the assault bridges in a constant stream. Behind them a swarm of mad-eyed Sephisti.

“The dragons will be hard-pressed. They’re tired already.”

An enemy catapult let go out beyond the towers and a heavy stone was launched, arching over the walls and falling with a crash into the gate courtyard.

“I don’t think we’re going to get much time to rest.”

With whistles blasting, a new group appeared on the scene. A labor battalion, men yoked at the neck like animals and driven by the whip. They were marched at the double up to the rear of the siege tower and chained to the great shaft that drove it.

Standing over them were imps, clad in the black tunic of Padmasa. Relkin shivered. The great enemy put forth its strength here. These mud men were not the work of the Ourdhi, their magic was of an order of magnitude more terrible than anything the Ourdhi were capable of. If the dragons failed, then the walls would fail, too, and then there might be no future at all for a renowned orphan boy from the obscure village of Quosh.

Within five minutes, the slave laborers were chained in place. The whips cracked loudly, the imps bawled, and the great siege tower wobbled in place and then, slowly, began to move, rolling forward one revolution of the giant wheels. The pace picked up as the sweating slaves overcame inertia and the tower rolled forward toward the walls.

There were curses from up and down the walls, and a few arrows whickered out and stuck in the shields at the rear, which protected the slaves.

Then the imps roared fresh orders, and the tower wobbled to a halt. The men shifted position, the whips cracked, and now the tower rolled back, away from the wall.

Relkin stared after it in a very somber frame of mind.

On the other side of the city, amid lush gardens and the cooling breeze from the great river stood the Imperial City behind its own fifty-foot high walls, the fortress within the fortress. Here Captain Hollein sought out the Great Witch.

First he tried the Imperial reception hall and learned that the witch was most definitely not in attendance that day. So he went on to her own, private quarters, which were adjacent to the throne room. From there she could be close to the emperor throughout the day. Due to her presence, a vast change had come over the day-to-day business of the Empire of Ourdh. The emperor was now accessible throughout the day. There were no more afternoon sessions in the harem, no more drinking bouts lasting for days. Instead, Banwi Shogemessar, for the first time in his life was behaving as a true monarch.

She was not there either, however, according to the po-faced eunuchs guarding the door. When he showed them the general’s seal on the message, they told him to go to the roof of the palace. It was six stories up and he arrived slightly breathless, but found the witch, standing alone on a section of the roof that faced northwest, toward the distant city of Dzu. Around her feet surged a small crowd of mice.

Should he disturb her? What if she was in the midst of some strange magic? He hesitated a moment and she turned around and he felt the pressure of those dark eyes once again. There was no masquerade with Ribela, the aura of power was plain to see.

“Lady Ribela, I have a message from General Pax-ion for you.”

“Speak, Captain Kesepton.”

“It is written here,” he handed her the general’s letter. She glanced at it and then returned her gaze to him.

“You are here to tell me that General Hektor has been transferred to the cutter
Gastes
. The ship leaves soon.”

“Ah,” he said, unsure.

Ribela caught the question in his eye. “You want me to free your wife and send her back to Marneri.”

He could not speak.

“I am afraid I cannot let Lagdalen of the Tarcho leave just yet. We need her here.”

Lagdalen had given enough for a girl her age. She was a mother now, her babe in the arms of someone else. Had the witch no humanity? Indeed, she seemed quite chilly and distant.

“I know that you have strong emotions on this matter. But at this moment, you must consider your duty to our cause. My mission continues, and for the success of that mission I need someone with the experience of Lagdalen.”

“She is too young to give so much,” he protested.

“Hush, Captain, she is older than most dragonboys. She serves, and she has indeed given much for our cause. Do not dishonor her service now because of your patriarchal concerns.”

His eyes blazed. Then she offered him an olive branch.

“Captain, within eight days I shall be able to replace her. There is a fleet now rounding Cape Hazard. Six white ships, an armada virtually, carrying supplies and a full legion from Cunfshon. Lagdalen’s replacement is aboard the leading ship, the
Spruce
.”

Kesepton took a deep breath. So, one more week of danger for both of them. A week in which Laminna might be made an orphan. The witch expected him to be pleased with this. It was better to humor her.

“Thank you, Lady Ribela.”

“Lagdalen will one day be a credit to the Office of Insight. She has a natural talent for the work, I think.”

“Lady, she has resigned the Office.”

“A temporary matter, Captain, I am sure. One like your Lagdalen will find many roles in life. For now she is your young mother goddess, your wife, and the mother of your child. But in time she will find herself new duties, I am confident of it. Lessis was right to choose her.”

To Hollein Kesepton, it sounded more like a sentence to an early death.

“Next week we will be solidly resupplied. Behind the
Spruce
are
Oat
and
Rye
, the largest ships we have.”

“Well, lady, that is good news, indeed. I only hope that we will still be alive to greet them when they come. The enemy will attack very soon. We will be hard-pressed to stop them.”

“We must stop them, so we will.”

There was no mistaking the Lady Ribela’s titanic strength of will. As he rode back to the lines by the East Gate, Kesepton wondered if willpower on its own would be enough to sustain them when the mud men came across the walls.

Relkin reached the infirmary in time to catch Lagdalen still at work there, sorting freshly washed bandages. They embraced, she looked exhausted, her young face lined and streaked, but still she found the energy to hug the dragonboy and to ask him a dozen questions in less than a minute.

Briefly, he described the fight in the mine and the aftermath.

“But the young hero of Quosh has survived yet another bout with death,” she said lightly.

Her eyes lit on the bandage again.

“That needs to be changed,” she said firmly.

“Well, I have orders from Captain Kesepton to get it changed.”