Fortress Draconis (79 page)

As the wagons finally rolled from Fortress Draconis and the southern gate closed, warriors lined the walls and raised their weapons in a salute. Various voices shouted, then the defenders gave throat to a grandhurrahl Again and again, three times three, they voiced it. The refugees, who had shuffled from the fortress fearful and tearful, could not help but be heartened by the cheer. Adults straightened up, children marched along more smartly, and passing troops returned salutes.

Alyx reined her horse around as the last of the wagons passed her position, then rode with Crow to join Resolute and Will at the rear of the procession. They rode in silence to where themeckanshü waited, then let them move out as a force screening the column’s left flank. The column snaked south for a mile to a line of low hills and began to slip through them. The riders mounted one of the taller hills, then turned to look back at Fortress Draconis.

The princess slowly shook her head. Already the Aurolani troops had begun to move forward and the dragon soared lazily over the battlefield. “I know we have to do this. I accept that. It doesn’t stop me from feeling like a coward.”

Resolute’s eyes became argent slits. “Just remember, Princess, they have the easier job. All they have to do is kill. We have to survive. We’re not just guarding their families, we are burdened with their hopes and dreams for the future. And we must succeed, or all that will be as dead as they soon will be.”

From the Crown Tower roof, Erlestoke watched the last of the refugees head south and waited to see if Alexia turned to look back at the fortress. He hoped she would, and perhaps even look for him. He entertained no romantic notions about her—at least no more than any man would when looking at such a striking woman. Erlestoke’s emotions had been fully engaged, and his mistress and their son were amid the refugees. Colonel Hawkins said he would look out for them, but Laerisa had agreed that she would be given no preference, and no attention would be drawn to her or the boy in case Chytrine did snap them all up.

He hoped Alexia would look back and get a glimpse of the maelstrom that was about to engulf Fortress Draconis. There was no denying that the speed and power of the Aurolani assault had surprised the defenders. Skycasters and thunderballs were weapons they had neither imagined nor anticipated. The damage they had done had kept the Draconis Baron awake long hours, thinking, dreaming, about how he could counter them. Without an example of a thunderball to study and dissect, however, designing countermeasures proved very difficult.

Erlestoke smiled.But Chytrine is not the only one who has developed new weapons. He fervently hoped Alexia and the others would realize that those who remained behind did so not to die, but to kill lots of Aurolani.And we are very well prepared to do that.

Drums began pounding behind the Aurolani lines. Un-dead legions started forward and dragonels massed near the northern wall. A smaller contingent toward the southeast could be moved quickly into position to strike at the main gate.And the dragon could strike anywhere.

He glanced over at the Draconis Baron. “Where do you want me? North at Hydra battery, or at the main gate with you at Lion?”

Cavarre considered for the moment, then pointed north. “Your people are there. That’s where I will need you. When she makes her drive at the main gate, I will be ready and have you ready to command my reserve.”

Erlestoke snapped a salute. “As ordered, my lord. In case I don’t get a chance later, I want to thank you for all you’ve taught me.”

“You were an apt pupil, so it was my pleasure” Cavarre returned the salute, then half smiled. “A question if you don’t mind.”

“Please.”

Cavarre tapped a finger against his own nose. “You’re still wearing your life mask. You didn’t give it to Hawkins to take south?”

“He would have refused, wouldn’t he? Would have told me to bring it myself.” The prince shook his head. “Besides, do you think I want my father to have it?”

“No, I don’t suppose you do.”

Erlestoke smiled. “If you find me, promise me you’ll toss my mask into the sea. My body, too, if there is anything left. I’ll rest better with my mother.”

“Consider it done.”

“Any wishes for yourself?”

Cavarre laughed and patted a hand against the Crown Tower’s thick walls. “I grew up in one Fortress Draconis, and I built another. I’ll haunt this place, thank you very much. Now, you best get going. Tell Colonel Tatt to signal all soldiers to their posts.”

Erlestoke nodded, then retreated through the tower. He found themeckanshü in charge of Signals and passed on the baron’s command. Outside he worked his way north to the northernmost battery. He ducked his head and slipped into the first of the two dragonel lairs. A dozen of the weapons pointed in each direction, out toward the stronghold the Aurolani had taken the previous night. The dragonels each had a serpent’s-maw at the muzzle and scales worked on the body, hence the designation of Hydra battery.

Captain Gerhard snapped a salute that the prince returned. “Dragonels sighted and treble-shotted. They won’t be happy.”

“Good. The tunnel is still intact?”

“Main tunnel fitted with nets and flooded as planned.” Themeckanshü officer smiled with a squeak. “We waited until some were coming up before we flooded it. Probably got a half-dozen squads.”

“Don’t let them relax down there. Their dead troops aren’t going to be stopped by a little water in the lungs.”

“Yes, sir.” Gerhard went over to a speaking tube built into the wall and shouted an order down to the troops waiting in the dark. An acknowledgment echoed back up. “We’re ready.”

“Good.” The drums outside began pounding to a crescendo. “They’re coming.”

Beyond the fortress walls the Aurolani troops began their march forward. Behind them the skycasters launched their thunderballs. More skycasters spoke from the captured stronghold, arcing the explosive spheres deep into the Maze. The bombs detonated in the air, or on the bounce, spraying metal fragments everywhere. One stray piece zinged into the battery, narrowly missing Erlestoke, and clanged impotently off Gerhard’s left arm.

Themeckanshü looked at the bright scar on his arm. “I’ll need more paint after this is done.”

The stronghold’s dragonels—which had been captured when it was taken—could not easily be brought to bear on the fortress’ battery, while the reverse was not true. The Aurolani had widened the fireports to give their dragonels more play, but that just gave Gerhard and his gunners bigger targets to shoot at.

The stronghold’s dragonels spat fire and steel, skipping balls off the fortress. A few stone fragments from a shattered casement ricocheted through the battery, but the crew paid no attention. Their weapons had been long since aimed, with the ranges measured to the inch, the powder load and shot weighed carefully, the dragonels properly angled and primed. Erlestoke nodded and Gerhard snapped the order for his men to fire.

The dragonels boomed and rolled back in recoil, their missiles vomited out on a gout of flame. Smoke choked the battery and a heartbeat later the floor shook as the lower level fired. Erlestoke’s ears rang and his eyes watered, but the breeze swirled smoke out of the battery, revealing men sponging the weapons and hurriedly reloading them. Past them the stronghold came into view, with its shattered fireports. At least one dragonel had been blasted free and slid down the exterior wall, while the others had been scattered about. At least one gibberer dragoneer hung from a ragged fireport, while parts of others oozed out elsewhere.

Beyond the stronghold, things looked more ominous yet. Some Aurolani troops had advanced using the stronghold as cover, but now they crept around it and kept coming. The undead, misshapen creatures came first, shuffling and shambling. Overhead sailed more thunderballs, but their distant explosions failed to hide the husky grunts and groans of the undead as they approached.

Gerhard, his face sooty from the first barrage, gave Erlestoke a quick nod. “Loading with scatter-shot, that was the plan.”

The prince nodded. “Good. Looks as if they are moving their dragonels up.”

“Two batteries, twenty dragonels or so.” Gerhard stepped over to the speaking tube. “Ready on the flamers, ready in the hole.”

The Aurolani dragoneers got their weapons moved and positioned, a bit back of the stronghold, giving them a clear line of fire at Gerhard’s battery without exposing them to Eagle battery to the west. They rammed home powder and shot, then aimed their field pieces. Themeckanshü waited until slow-burning match-coils had been distributed to fire the weapons, then shouted down the tube. “Fire the hole!”

Knowing what was coming, Erlestoke backed to a wall and hunkered down a bit. In the first siege of Fortress Draconis, back when he was still a child, Chytrine had only one dragonel and a limited supply of firedirt. The wagon carrying it had ventured into the fortress through the shattered gate and got trapped in a cul-de-sac where it caught fire. The resulting explosion leveled a portion of Draconis town.

To minimize the chances of that happening in the future, the Draconis Baron had ordered all magazines in which the firedirt was stored to be built underground, and charges for the dragonels were to be conveyed up to the batteries. The tunnels between the fortress and the strongholds ran underground at a level slightly above the magazines, and once the Aurolani had taken the strongholds, those tunnels had been fitted with nets and flooded.

Little side tunnels, which ran parallel to the main tunnels, and slanted down to the magazine level, had not been flooded. UrZrethi sappers had clambered down through them, broken into the darker reaches of the magazines, and opened a fair number of firedirt kegs. They then laid a trail

of powder back through the side tunnels and, at the order, set light to the powder.

The Aurolani dragonels spoke loudly, crashing iron balls into the battery. One glanced off a dragonel’s barrel, skewing it around and knocking the fireman flying, then the ball smashed the loader against the wall, crushing his right arm. The loader yelped, and his arm hung from his shoulder a useless mass of twisted metal and broken wire. Stone fragments from the wall tore at his face, where mail had not replaced flesh, while the misshapen ball pirouetted around the middle of the battery, then sagged over on a flattened side.

About a minute later, the first of three explosions shook the stronghold. It sounded like a muffled thump, but the second explosion’s rumbling boom swallowed it. Jets of fire spurted here and there, smoke rose, but that formed a mere prelude to the final titanic blast. A volcano erupted from the stronghold’s heart, pitching dark flecks of stone, decking, and creatures into the air, then the fire brightened from red to searing silver-white. The walls burst outward, dark stone divided by spiderwebs of white, with pieces growing smaller and smaller, then smoke condensed and rose while the explosion spit debris in every direction.

Stones and pieces of wood from flooring blasted through the fireports. The shock wave hit, jolting dragonels, cracking mortar, and loosening paving stones set in the battery floor. Erlestoke found himself flying for a second, then ended up in a heap on the ground, sputtering from the dust and smoke. He swiped at his eyes, smearing dust with tears, then shook his head to clear it of the ringing. He snorted to rid his nostrils of that dry scent of dirt, then felt blood dripping from his nose.

Smoke swirled and thinned, and the prince saw Gerhard laughing and pointing. Nothing was left of the stronghold save a smoking rubble pit occasionally stirred by fiery flares and small explosions. The Aurolani vanguard had been shredded with shrapnel, covering the field in blood and twitching bodies. The undead that had survived the blast did claw at the ground, dragging what was left of their bodies forward, closer and closer to the fortress. Erlestoke couldn’t see the Aurolani dragonels, though a powder wagon burned merrily and exploded, knocking down other troops.

The prince crossed to the speaking tube and shouted down into it. “Flamers deploy!”

Hidden amid the wall spikes were some hollow tubes. At his order a valve was thrown open and a hidden oil reservoir drained out through the nozzle. In the bowels of the wall a combat mage triggered a simple spell, igniting the stream of oil. A stream of liquid fire arced out, trailing a curtain of black smoke, incinerating the undead and living alike.

Gerhard and Hydra battery started up a steady fire, with barrages coming every couple of minutes. Solid iron balls reached out to carve furrows through formations, while closer in scatter-shot blasted whole squads to pieces. Yet even with them firing as fast as they could, and the deadly streams of burning oil, the Aurolani troops got closer and closer, and the stronghold’s rubble served as a breastwork behind which other dragonels could be hidden.

Erlestoke retreated from the battery and felt a chill as a black shadow coursed over him. He looked to the east and saw the main gate burning, the stone melted away. The gold dragon circled and swooped, then perched itself on the Crown Tower. With a swat of its tail it dashed the flagstaff to flinders, casting down the grey flag with black dragon-skull on it. The dragon crouched on the tower’s thick edge, its talons crushing stone. It did not stretch itself out over the top of the tower, as its predecessor had done.

The dragon had learned from the previous assault. A quarter century ago a dragon had torn open the Crown Tower’s roof and had been impaled by a trap the Draconis Baron had previously arranged. Though this Crown Tower was far too small and squat to allow for the same defenses as before, the dragon took no chances, and began to claw away at the masonry and expose the fragment chamber.

The dragon had learned, but so had the Draconis Baron. Throughout the Maze lay other strongholds, blockhouses in which food and supplies were stored preparatory for a siege. Into each of them had been built a large dragonel, one far too big to be moved or reloaded with any ease or speed. Each had been laid so that it pointed at the top of the tower, one at each cardinal point of the compass. Using an intricate pulley, gear, and lever system, the aim could be adjusted ever so slightly, but with as large a target as a dragon, such minor adjustments were unnecessary. Sorcerers assigned to the fireteams usedarcanslata to confer, and when the dragon began to tear through the wall, casting great blocks of granite to tumble through the town below, the fireteams were given the order to fire.