Chapter Fifteen

But there was no briefing at the First Army headquarters. Instead, there was a tall, solidly-muscled man with a barely healed sword-slash across his face, who considered them through yellowish eyes that reminded Hal of a tiger he'd seen in a menagerie once.

He was Sir Bab Cantabri, commanding officer of this special detail, and he took them to a secluded tower room in Paestum Castle.

"I assume the four of you are volunteers, as specified?"

"We're alia that, sir," Farren Mariah piped. "In the smashin' old army style of the first ranks rarin' to march out and die."

Even though it looked as if it hurt to give up a smile, Cantabri managed a rather wintry looking one.

"And the four from the other flight look to be that unit's cheese dongs,"

Cantabri said. "Figures. Nothing changes about the army, whether it's on land or air.

"At least you look smart enough. We can only hope for the rest. You, Serjeant Kailas. You're ranking warrant?"

"I am, sir."

"Do you happen to have the necessary sea-going experience that was requested?"

"Nossir," Hal said. "The only flier in our flight who does wasn't volunteered."

"And the gods wept," Cantabri murmured. "Do you suppose you can manage to land your dragon aboard a ship? We'll arrange to get your gear and crew out by lighter."

"I don't know, sir," Hal answered honestly. "I've never tried it."

"There's a first time for almost everything. All four of you, over to this window. Here, use this glass. See, far out there on the horizon, five ships?"

They could.

"Two are fast corvettes, three are transports. One transport is towing a barge. You'll land on it, then your dragons will be hoisted aboard and you can lead them to their cages. Aboard ship, you'll draw tropical kit."

"Can we ask what the special duties we've uh, volunteered for now?"

Saslic asked.

"When you're aboard, and we've set sail, you'll be told all you need to know. I'll tell you just one thing, in case you fall off your dragon and drown, so you can die in a patriotic fashion, this will be as important a mission as you're likely to be given.

"I'll tell you the rest when we're aboard the Galgorm Adventurer." He snorted. "What an absurd name for a spitkit of a horse-hauler."

Hal expected the worst, and, for once in his military career, was disappointed.

The four dragons were unchained from their wagons, and took off, as ordered, away from Paestum, then turned to sea, and flew to the waiting ships.

The sea was a bit rough, tossing whitecaps, and Hal wondered if he came off his mount, if he could stay afloat until rescued.

As senior warrant, the man who should always go last, he waved Sir Loren in to land first.

"I'll let someone else take the honors," Loren shouted.

Hal pointed to Farren, who needed no further encouragement. He sent his dragon spiraling down, then pulled up on its reins. The monster flared its wings, and settled on to the barge with a screech of triumph.

The triumphant call changed to one of dismay and fear as sailors went down ladders to the barge, and a crane swung out. Wide leather bands went under the dragon's belly, and it was muzzled.

Then it was swayed neatly aboard, and Farren, keeping away from its lashing tail, led it to a large cage.

Saslic went next, but her dragon balked, and she had to make another pass before landing on the barge.

Sir Loren landed, was loaded without incident, and then Hal sent his creature diving down, pulling up at the last minute, and the monster's talons scraped on the wooden deck and he was safe.

It tried to bite a sailor, and Hal slapped it with his open hand on the neck in reproof.

Then, it, too, was hoisted aboard the ship.

Hal had a moment to consider the Galgorm Adventurer. Not being a sailor like Mynta Gart, Hal had little to judge the former merchantman by.

It certainly wasn't the handsomest vessel he'd ever seen, having almost no curves to its construct above the waterline. It was almost 500 feet long, three-masted, square-rigged with a jib, and had one cargo deck, built with ramps to load horses, plus the main deck. These two decks had their stalls enlarged to accommodate small dragons, wooden bars extending to the overhead. Half of the lower deck had been closed off, for troop bunking.

The upper and poop decks were large, fitted with cabins, no doubt for the horses' owners or trainers. These were now for the expedition's officers and the fliers.

Wide sliding gangplanks, jutting forward, had been added to either side of the hull, which didn't improve the ship's lines any.

Sailors escorted the four to their cabins, and they had a chance to meet the other fliers. Hal reserved judgement on them, since a gifted flier, contrary to what Cantabri and Dewlish thought, might not have the shiniest harness of all.

Already aboard were some 200 soldiers. Hal saw by the easy way they handled their weapons, the way their eyes constantly moved, and their air of superiority to everyone, especially the ship's crew, that they were experienced warriors.

Whatever this special duty was, it didn't appear to be one involving either maypole dancing or fishing.

"Tropical kit," Farren said with a smile. "It'd be nice to be flyin'

somewheres warm. It's drawin' on toward winter."

But no one knew anything, everyone was waiting for Sir Bab Cantabri to show up.

Eventually his lighter, flanked by others with supplies and the dragon handlers, arrived, and goods and men were transferred aboard ship.

Hal was very glad to see Garadice, Rai's father, and twenty of his dragon specialists with Cantabri. The man asked of his son, seemed both unhappy and relieved that Rai hadn't been volunteered for this mission.

Within the hour, orders were given and the five ships set sail, due west from Paestum, into empty seas.

When all sight of land was gone, Cantabri summoned the infantry officers to the great cabin. An hour later, they were dismissed, and the fliers were called.

There was an elaborate plaster model of an island in the center of a table. Hal couldn't tell the scale, but the island was clearly large, covered with high mountains, interspersed with alpine valleys. There were two noticeable harbors, deep fjords knifing into the land, and a third inlet. The two harbors had tiny wooden houses near their mouth, and there were three other groups of houses further inland.

"This," Sir Bab said, "is Black Island. Our target."

Farren wailed. "I shoulda guessed he was lyin''t' us, an' a long farewell to the tropics. It'll be naught but ice, black dragons, cold, an'

bum-freezin'."

Cantabri nodded.

"I did lie about the tropical gear. Just as I ordered a false course to be set west, to deceive any Roche spies in Paestum. We'll turn north within the day, and tomorrow issue cold weather gear to all.

"Being fliers, I suppose I don't need to tell you what Black Island's noted for. Dragons. We've heard from reliable sources that Roche is not only taking every dragon it can from the nests to train for their fliers, but their magicians have devised a way to make the dragons breed twins."

He went to a door, rapped. Three men entered. One was in his thirties, the others ten years younger. All wore dark garb, and had close-cropped hair and were clean-shaven. Were it not for the wands they carried, Hal would never have thought them to be magicians, but, perhaps, Cantabri's battle-hardened aides.

"This is Limingo, who's one of the King's Royal Magicians, and his assistants.

"They'll advise us of any Roche magic, hopefully cast counterspells and also keep us from being spotted on our journey north.

"We're at least three weeks or so away from Black Island, likely longer since we'll be hugging Deraine's west coast as we sail. During that time, I want you all to familiarize yourselves with this model, so that you can not only provide scouting as we approach Black Island, but can prevent any Roche fliers from seeing us and guiding their warships to attack us.

"I intend to seize this port, Balfe, here. Once we take the port, we'll attack this settlement here." He touched one of the fjords, then an upland cluster of houses.

"That's where one of our spies reported the Roche have their dragon breeder, from the time they're taken from their nests to be fattened and become familiar with man for a few months. Then they're taken to Roche to begin training.

"After we seize the island, those dragon babies—I understand you call them kits—will be taken to Deraine, trained and used to reinforce our own dragon flights.

"With any luck, we'll be able to sail in, take them by surprise, and be back out to sea within the day."

Hal and his friends looked at each other.

"With just three warships," Saslic murmured.

"Which impels the question," Sir Loren said. "If this raid's so important, why wasn't half the fleet sent north?"

"Because it's most doubtful we could devise a spell to keep a plan of that size a secret," the magician, Limingo said. "Given warning, we think the Roche would cold-bloodedly slaughter those kits we're after rather than let us take them."

Hal thought the Roche weren't that barbaric, but said nothing.

"Supposing," Saslic said, "we do encounter Roche dragons in the air.

How are we supposed to deal with them?"

Cantabri hesitated.

"I heard rumors that a flier, down south, devised a way of dealing with them, but I wasn't able to find out his name or any details." He frowned as Farren began chortling. "What's so funny about what I just said?"

Farren looked at Hal, who shrugged a go-ahead.

"Th' flier you're after's standin' right there," Mariah gurgled. "A brave volunteer if I ever saw one."

"You,Kailas?"

"Yessir." Hal briefly explained his use of crossbowmen in the battle down south.

"Hells," Cantabri growled. "And I specifically brought no crossbowmen since we'll be moving fast, and on the offensive. I've never liked crossbowmen when I'm not on the defensive and they don't have a chance to prepare fighting positions.

"Could you do the same—I'll need you to give me details—for some of my archers? I guarantee you'd have no lack of volunteers."

"With longbows, sir?" Hal asked. "That's a problem."

Saslic nodded. "We'd be darting about, and they'd be wiggling their bows trying to get a firm aim… I don't think that'd work, sir."

"I know it wouldn't," Sir Loren said. "I've seen cavalry try to shoot a-horseback, and the results are miserable."

Cantabri stood, frowning in thought.

"Kailas, stay after. We need to discuss this matter."

"Yessir."

"I don't know," Cantabri mused, "whether having you aboard is a bit of luck or not. You had success in killing dragon fliers or dragons, which I heartily approve of.

"I maintain this war will only be won when the Roche get tired of being killed, and either defang or depose Queen Norcia. All else is wishful thinking.

"So you and I agree on purpose. The question is, can you come up with any scheme to match our present circumstance, without crossbowmen?

Which is why I wondered about my real luck in having you aboard."

Hal thought of mentioning his crossbow a-building, still weeks from readiness, but determined to say nothing, since he had no idea whether his scheme would work. But perhaps his idea could be modified slightly, at least for this operation.

"Possibly, sir," Hal said. "Is there any way we can get our hands on some crossbows? There's eight of us fliers… maybe forty bows, and a thousand bolts?"

Cantabri considered.

"I can detach one of the corvettes, perhaps with one of Limingo's aides, to one of the west coast fishing ports. Maybe he can contact one of our armories and have the necessary tools waiting here… in Deraine's north."

"Not good enough, sir," Hal said. "We'll need time to practice."

"I do not like changing a plan," Cantabri said. "But there's no way around it, I suppose, if we wish to have weapons to face the Roche fliers.

We'll have to send the corvette, then lay off that port until the crossbows appear.

"That is, if the matter can be arranged at all."

"Frigging dragons don't get seasick," Saslic moaned.

"Guess not," Hal agreed. The wind had freshened, and the waves crashed over the bows of the Adventurer.

"But I do, godsdammit," Saslic said, and bent over the railing once more.

Farren, who was distinctly greenish, looked away from her.

"This is the doom," he muttered. "To be sick, sicker, an' then freeze, an be et by black dragons.

"I don't like this even a bit. I've got plans for after the war, I do."

Saslic turned.

"Don't fall in love with them," she said, her voice harsh. "There won't be any after the war for a dragon flier."

The corvette was sent off to a medium-sized trading port, and the other ships sailed to and fro, well out of sight of land, away from the chart-marked trading routes and fishing grounds, waiting.

"Now, the question will be," Sir Bab mused to Hal, "how many crossbows will we get?"

"We asked for forty, correct, sir?"

"Kailas, you might have been in the army for a time, and fancy yourself an old soldier. But there are things still for you to learn."

"Not sure I want to learn them, sir."

"Don't think, Serjeant, you'll be able to keep that nice civilian core you had before the war started, and when peace breaks out, you'll be able to drop right back to doing whatever it was you were before being called to the colors."

"I wasn't called, sir, but taken. But you were teaching me about crossbows."

"No. I was teaching you about the army and numbers. If you want, say, forty of anything, ask for 120. They'll look at your requisition, and find reasons why of course you can't get what you thought you needed.

"So, if we're lucky, we get eighty.

"If we're lucky."

Three days later, the corvette returned with sixty crossbows, of which at least half were in sad shape. Fortunately Limingo's aide had looked at them, realized their condition, and bought skeins for bowstrings and wood to repair the prods. There were enough peacetime carpenters among the crew and soldiery to be put to repair work.

With the other crossbows, Hal, and a grizzled infantry serjeant set to, training the fliers how to shoot.

Sir Loren and Saslic became experts. Hal wasn't surprised—Loren was instantly good at anything he undertook, and Hal had learned years ago that women were, generally, better than men with arms, once they decided not to listen to the railings from males.

Farren was an acceptable marksman, which he said, with a shrug, didn't bother him, since "I don't much like the idea of killin' dragons, 'less they're tryin' to fang me, so I'll just have to fly closer an' shoot straighter at their riders." He nudged Hal. "Or get the Master Murderer here to get them for me."

Of the four fliers from the other flight, one was a decent shot, although he was hardly an eager warrior. Another was zealous enough, but was lucky to be able to hit the ship's side, let alone the target pinned to it. The other two were sullen, not caring about much of anything. Hal decided Sir Bab had been right—they'd been stuck with the other unit's cheese dongs.

They continued practicing while the ships sailed steadily north. Sir Bab didn't want any dragons flown, so the handlers and fliers were hard put to keep their mounts happy in their cages, eager as always to get away from the earth and into their natural element.

"It'll come, soon enough," Hal told his monster, while the beast grunted contentedly, munching on a piglet Kailas had tossed into its cage.

"There'll be one way to tell if we're lucky," Sir Bab told Hal. The two had gotten in the habit of exercising on the ship's low poop after evening meal then, when Hal had been worn out by Cantabri's grind, to lean on the stern rail, cooling off in the chill, near-arctic wind, and talk of most anything.

Cantabri was reluctant to talk of before the war, but Hal had learned he was married, had two children and had been a King's Advocate, specializing in land claims.

"A good way to get rich," he told Hal. "Or just make enemies if you're stupid enough, as I was, to stand against the rich when they try to grab some peasant's holdings."

Then, one night, he'd brought up luck.

"What's the way, sir?" Hal asked. "When we're sitting in some bar in Rozen with all our fingers and toes and kits swarming around us like we're their fathers?"

"That's one," Cantabri said. "Another one is if we don't encounter a Roche flier named Yasin. A nobleman, with a brother who's supposedly mounting Queen Norcia. He's—"

"I know him, sir," Hal said. "Ran into him before the war, when he had a flying show."

"I hope he was luckier for you than me," Cantabri said. He touched the livid scar on his face. "His damned dragons pointed me out to some heavy cavalrymen when I was wandering around behind their lines one time, just to see what I could see.

"Another time I was afoot, raiding a supply column, and his beasts caught me out and tore into my men. They weren't as tough as I'd thought, and broke.

"Dragons have no trouble taking men from behind, you know."

"I know," Hal said.

"The first time I noted the black bannerlet he had tied to his dragon's neck spikes. All of his fliers use that as a common emblem, I've been told, though only his has golden fringing. The second time, the same, and there was one more time when he, or at least some of his men, saw me on a diversion. Didn't lose anybody, I'm glad to say, but we had to abort and skit back to our own lines before we got trapped.

"So I'm no fan of this Ky Yasin.

"I heard he'd moved north, to Paestum, and hope to hell the bastard—or whatever magicians he's got working for him—hasn't scented us out.

"I was told by one of the First Army's intelligence sorts he—and his dragons—have become some sort of a fire brigade, sent wherever there's trouble along the front.

"He also told me this Yasin was the one trying to train black dragons—I was told they're supposedly untrainable, implacable enemies of man—and having some success, which would explain why the Roche are capturing the monsters up on Black Island.

"Kailas, there are some people who scare me, and he's one of them."

There was a long silence, then: "If I were superstitious, I'd fear the man carries my doom."

Again, stillness, then Cantabri laughed harshly, without humor.

"Talking like this is why soldiers should never be given time to themselves. They're liable to try to teach themselves how to think, and all they manage is brooding.

"Night, Kailas."

And he went to a companionway to his cabin.

Hal lingered on for a few minutes, thinking. How many million men under arms? And this damned Yasin kept cropping up.

At least, Kailas thought, he hadn't encountered Yasin in the air. So far.

And if he were truly learning to ride black dragons, from all that Hal had heard, he certainly didn't want to.