Dragon Heart (32 page)

Jeon bowed. “As you will, my lord admiral. I only serve.”

*   *   *

From the town side the big barge was plowing through the bay toward the Jawbone. Tirza walked down along the spit, keeping to the rocks, and stopped on the top of the slope, with the fringe of stunted cypress behind her. The barge pushed into the curve of beach below her. The eight men sculling it along leapt over the side, hauled the barge up onto the sand above the water's edge, and began unloading stacks of wood.

She knew what this was. She had seen the cypress tree burn; now they were going to plant the same thing that had done that on the Jawbone. She hated these people. She hated her brother for helping them.

The men went around the top of the beach with some boards of wood, scraping away rocks and sea drift down to the hard ground, clawing and gouging at the ground to flatten it out. Around this clearing they stacked the pieces of their monster. She gathered up stones, filling her skirt with them, and circled back to the slope between the beach and the scraggly trees.

Down there, they had the boxy frame halfway up, like a wooden mouth yawning at the sky, and they were carrying over the long tongue. She dumped the rocks at her feet and began to throw.

The first one missed, and plopped into the bay. The workingmen below all turned toward that sound, and the next stone hit the one nearest her on the neck. He yowled. The third stone bounced off the frame but struck somebody on the rebound so hard he sat down. Pointing up at her, they rushed at her, and she darted off into the rocks.

Almost at once they went back to their work, and she crept around to another place on the rise, and threw more rocks.

They chased her again, shouting. She leapt nimbly along ahead of them, leading them after her up the rocky slope, and scrambled in under the low branches of the cypress thickets at the top. In there she had a favorite place, a crevice deep under the rocks, and she ducked into it. For a while they looked for her. Curled in the damp hollow of the earth, she looked and saw their boots tramp past. Then their voices faded and they went away.

She crawled back up to the sunlight, thinking she would keep at this and slow them down, at least, but when she walked out of the cypress a man in a striped doublet sprang on her.

With a yell of triumph he knocked her down. For a moment, he kicked and struck at her, bellowing. She rolled onto her back, with him above her, between her and the sky, and she drove both her feet up into his crotch. His bellow of delight turned into a screech. She sprang up and raced away down the Jawbone. The other men were running from the beach after her. Her knee hurt; she had banged it on the rocks when she fell. Her elbow hurt. She ran on, dodging in among the rocks, looking for another hideaway.

*   *   *

Oto said, “You see they respect me now. I should have done that sooner.” He rode along the beach, smiling. Beside him, Jeon said nothing. As they approached, the scattered midday crowd scattered, shrinking away, and nobody would look him in the face. The shutter was drawn across the front of the bakery.

“There were more people than this,” Oto said presently. They were halfway down the beach to the charred stump of the cypress tree, where the first of the kickers stood, with soldiers all around it. “Are they hiding?”

“They probably went away inland,” Jeon said. “They will come back. They belong here. They're only frightened. But they live here.” As he spoke, a raw heat brightened in him, for their sake, a rage at what had happened here.

Oto laughed. “I did. I frightened them, burning their tree. Yet I miss the meat pies.”

“Easy enough to make. Come down here and let me show you something.”

They rode up to the kicker by the cypress stump. The soldiers at once bowed and swung their hats, and Oto gave them a few salutes. Jeon dismounted from his horse and let the reins trail. Glancing out across the bay, he looked to see if the third kicker was in place, and saw the men there all running up the ridge at once.

Oto said, “Yes, get on with it.”

Jeon faced him. “Stencop came to me yesterday and got me down here to help him set up the kickers. He agrees with me that we have a high chance of seeing the pirates soon, and he put the kickers around so.” Jeon pointed to this one, and then down the beach to the next, and then across the bay to the one on the opposite shore.

“This was his idea, setting them up this way. I thought it odd not to put all the kickers together at the best place to defend the channel. But look.” He moved behind the one and sighted down the long horizontal side of the kicker toward the castle.

Oto said, “I think you're mad, anyway. The pirates will not attack such a strong position as this.” He swung down from his horse. “Especially with a fleet here.”

“What fleet? Two ships?” Jeon stood back, and Oto stooped to look along the side of the kicker.

“And?”

Jeon pushed the little brake lever, and the big machine turned of its own weight. The far corner of the long edge, like a sight, slid across the surf, then the sand, and finally came to rest aimed directly at the brewery.

Oto straightened, his face rigid. “What are you trying to say, Prince?”

Jeon shrugged. “You mentioned secret orders?”

Oto glared at him. His beard was scraggly and his coat hung open and as he stood there he lifted one arm and flapped the coat to cool himself. He said, slowly, as if he thought it all out as he spoke, “Well, then, I think it's time for me to take command, isn't it.”

“My lord,” Jeon said, and bowed.

“Call Stencop to me,” Oto said. “We shall hold council.” He mounted his horse, and rode slowly away down the beach toward the brewery. Halfway there, he turned and looked back at the kicker. His hand went to his belt. Jeon went off to find Stencop.

*   *   *

Oto knew how to manage this: he fisted his hands together on the table, and stared across at Stencop. “I am the King. You deployed the kickers in an odd way, and I feel the need to take control.”

“That was—” Stencop shut his mouth. His gaze licked sideways, toward Prince Jeon sitting off behind Oto. His eyes on Oto again, Stencop said, “As you wish. My lord. Do you want to move them?”

Oto paused only a moment, thinking this over. He said, “This supposed attack will occur tomorrow. If it fails to appear we shall move them, yes. But for now. I will command. You, my lord,” Oto said, nodding at Stencop, “will command the position down the beach. The kicker on the far side of the bay—”

“Not him,” Stencop said, clipped. He gave another fierce stare down at Jeon, who obviously had advised him on the placement of the kickers. Oto sat back, smiling. He had seen through the boy's designs again. Oto resisted the urge to throw a look of triumph over his shoulder.

He said, “Prince Jeon will attend you. I'll put the company sergeant in charge of the kicker across the bay. The army can remain in camp, so close on the beach as they are, summoned as needed. We'll post a sentry at the mouth of the bay.”

“Very well,” Stencop said, and rose, ponderous. He swept the whole beach with his look.”Where have all the people gone?”

“Out of reach of the pirates,” Oto said. “They'll come back.” He reached for his cup, but it was empty. Stencop was moving away, Jeon after him, but staying a good way behind. Oto almost laughed. He had made enemies of his enemies. Yet his cup was still empty. In the midst of his triumphs it was galling that he suffered such a constant want of service. He put the cup down with a thud.

*   *   *

Stencop said, “I would chain you to the kicker, if you would not get in the way.”

Jeon avoided Stencop's eyes, and looked instead out across the mild waters of the bay. Nothing in this was going as he wished. He moved down toward the beach a few steps and Stencop said sharply, “Stand.” With a crook of his finger he beckoned one of his ensigns. “Watch him.” Stencop gave Jeon another fierce glare and turned to another waiting officer.

“Send the second watch officer down to the end of the beach, where he can see anything that approaches—give him a good horn. Tell him on his life to stay awake.”

“Yes, sir! Glory!”

“Glory. Send me the troop commander.”

“Glory!”

Stencop grunted, and tramped up behind Jeon again, and shouted, “You will stay here, guarded, until this is over! Then we—the King and I—shall discuss how to deal with you.” Stencop fell still, his breath harsh. “I am going to my quarters. Watch him.” Stencop stalked off down the beach. The ensign beside Jeon crossed his arms over his chest. Jeon sat down on the sand, watching the sea.

*   *   *

Tirza woke just before dawn, when the sound of the water changed.

She was curled up below the overhang of the dune, ten feet above the edge of the bay, across the water from the stump of the cypress tree. All night, the waves, broken to chop as they fought their way through the narrows, had slapped and rippled along the pebble beach, but now the water was rising in long swells that dropped hard on the sand. Something big was moving into the bay.

She sprang up. Beyond the cliff the eastern sky shone pale as shell. In the blackness overhead the stars were going out. She ran down to the beach, and out there, on the flat, dark water, she saw the darker shape moving down the channel.

At the tip of the Jawbone, a horn blared.

She saw his head rise up into the air, the great, flared lizard head, and she screamed. “It's a trap! Go back! Go back!”

He heard her; his head turned, and the horn blared again. From down the Jawbone, where the kicker was, came shouting. The horn was blasting, over and over. A thin whistle cut through the metallic shriek, coming closer. “Go back!” she screamed, again, and out there he sank beneath the water, and suddenly an enormous rolling ball of flame burst like a little sun in the center of the channel.

The boom rolled toward her, and the shock blew her backward hard onto her bottom on the sand. She flung herself facedown. Another thunderous crash, and then another almost at once, and a wash of heat blew across her back. A stench like dead things. Suddenly she was being pelted with falling ash and burning things and water, pounding on her like hail. She leapt up, her arms over her head, looking toward the channel.

The air was thick with smoke and dirt. Huge surf was smashing up on the beach and slopping up around her feet. A long, hollow crash still resounded, on and on, echoing off the cliff. The sun was tipping over the edge of the land, and the sky turning white, but the bay was a cauldron of dark rolling smoke and sound.

She ran down the beach, her teeth gritted together. Ahead, she saw the men at the kicker there, busy cranking the tongue backward, two of them carrying up the ball, to load it again, to shoot again. The sergeant stood there, watching. She stopped and got a rock and hurled it. Ran on. The sergeant heard her coming, and he shouted. The others stopped, twisting around to look. She stopped and scrabbled for rocks on the beach and, finding nothing but weed, bits of wood, threw that, shrieking in rage and terror. The sergeant was racing toward her, two of the others a step behind. She cocked back her arm to throw a handful of sea drift, and then, behind them, out of the bay just below the kicker, the head of the dragon rose, blazing red in the glare of the new sun.

*   *   *

Oto's horse reared, and he fought it to a standstill, his gaze directed across the water. The horn had brought him out of the brewery, and he had seen nothing, only the crew working the kicker, and then the wonderful explosions. Roiling black smoke hid the water from him, but he knew nothing could have endured that. He bellowed, “Victory!” The horse bounded again, its neck black with sweat. Bits of dirt and embers still floated in the air. The men around him were cheering and clapping themselves on the back.

He turned down the beach, toward Stencop's place. “Victory!” he roared again, and galloped down the beach, to make sure Stencop recognized whose victory this was.

*   *   *

The army was still rushing out of its camp, gathering in ranks along the high side of the beach. Stencop stalked around yelling orders. Jeon had not moved all night, the ensign stoically standing guard all the while, but now the ensign was shouting and throwing his fists in the air like everybody else. Jeon went down to the edge of the surf, where the black wave beat hard on the sand, and stared down toward the channel.

He thought, What was that? What was that?

Under the seething cloud of steam and smoke the surface of the bay still quaked; all around him steaming drops of water rained down. Behind him the cheering went on, and down where the cypress had been those men were whooping and celebrating also. Oto on his horse was galloping toward them along the beach. The sun was coming over the cliff top, the air suddenly warm. Jeon stared across the water, trying to make out what it was he had just seen.

Just behind him, Stencop said, “Well, you were right about that, anyway.” He lifted his voice, heavy with command. “Good kill. Reload.”

Jeon did not move. He did not think this was over. He had seen something out there, before the first bombs struck. Something not a ship. He strained his eyes for signs of wreckage in the rocking, empty water.

Then from across the bay, over on the Jawbone, where that third kicker was, a blinding light flashed, a rumbling explosion rose to a thunder, and another fireball billowed up into the air.

The Imperials' buoyant cheering died away. Stencop turned his head. “What is happening?”

This explosion had raised more dust and smoke, a great cloud that rolled across the bay toward them, hiding the Jawbone from sight. Jeon gawked at it. He thought suddenly of Tirza, out there somewhere.

Then through the masking cloud a dark mass appeared, hurtling toward him.

He went rapidly backward, up beside the kicker. The sun was full risen now. The surf began to roll up hard on the beach. The wind harshened. Out of the cloud before Jeon charged something red as a fire and bigger than a house. It had horns, it had enormous eyes, and it was coming straight at him.