Chapter Thirty-Five

Hal ordered the flight to parade, in full uniform, as a gesture of honor to Serjeant Te. Of course, he really wanted to see which flier was missing his dagger.

There were enough shortages and uniform inadequacies for Hal to make quite a storm, and have his adjutant, Gart, make notes of what was missing.

But the dagger gave him nothing.

Some of the fliers swore they'd never been issued a dagger at all, which Hal had no way of knowing. Others, including Gart and Feccia, had lost theirs, somewhere. Sir Nanpean had the best reason—his, of course, had been taken from him when he was captured, and he'd never been able to get a replacement.

Nothing.

Hal, not having the slightest clue as to how to play warder, made what he thought were subtle inquiries, which also gave him nothing.

Worse, from the death of Te on, the thefts came to a halt.

Hal ground his teeth, got on with the war.

* * *

The pioneers had finished their siege engines, and they began thudding away, hurling huge stones against the landward wall, firing huge arrows at any target that presented itself, lobbing other stones into the center of Aude.

Hal, riding back of the lines for a meeting with Cantabri, saw men going forward. They were lightly armed, and carried the types of picks and shovels Hal recognized from Caerly. He also remembered them from the horror-drenched days in Paestum, waiting for the Roche mine to be fired.

He said nothing to anyone—the mine must be kept a secret.

Deraine controlled the air, although Roche dragons still fiercely contested the issue.

Hal took flights up in the morning and at dusk, and almost every day the Roche rose to meet him.

None were the feared black dragons. Hal began hoping that maybe Yasin had been eaten by the monstrosities, or they'd discovered they couldn't be depended on, or something.

Hal killed his share and more, as did Sir Nanpean, Garadice and Sir Loren. But the Eleventh Flight still took casualties, and the number of pilots gathered in their hut grew fewer and fewer, the revelry louder and louder, sometimes just short of hysteria.

Hal sent inquiry after inquiry back to the First Army Headquarters, some bordering on the insubordinate, raging, begging for replacements.

But none came.

The soldiers on line were put on alert, with no reason being given, and for all dragon flights to be in the air from dawn to dusk, prepared, as the order said "to take advantage of targets of opportunity."

Hal knew what it meant, but still kept silent. Perhaps the still-undiscovered thief/murderer in the flight was no more than that.

But most likely, not.

They were orbiting Aude in formations of three, other dragon flights soaring past them.

It was a summer day that promised heat, but in this morning was crisp and clear.

Hal saw wisps of smoke coming from the base of one wall, watched closely.

The smoke boiled out, and the timbers of the mine below cracked, and crumbled.

The outer wall cracked, tottered, and fell, crashing down, almost into the river below.

But no wave of Deraine soldiers rose to the attack. The space between the outer and inner city walls was too close for it to be anything other than a deathtrap.

Roche reinforcements were hurried to the inner wall, waiting for the assault that never came.

That was the first step.

Somewhere, not far distant, another mine would be dug under the inner wall.

In the meantime, the siege went on, daily patrols by cavalry and infantry to make sure Aude stayed invested.

The Roche developed a new tactic—bringing four or six dragons up just before dawn. These carried the great wicker baskets, but were filled with supplies. They flew out—when they could—with wounded soldiers.

Hal, still fighting his own war, told his fliers to attack the incoming dragons, but let the ones leaving pass.

His fliers, no more interested in slaughtering the sick and wounded than Kailas was, obeyed.

Except for Sir Nanpean, who argued that any dragon and its flier should be a target, and there was no place for mercy in war.

Hal, logically, knew he was right, and didn't ground him for disobedience.

But he liked Tregony no more than before.

* * *

… we lost two dragons today. The first was crippled in a fight with three other dragons, and we had to put her down. I frankly feel that the fault is that of the flier, who's less than experienced, and should have known better than to fly against such odds.

The other, Sir Nanpean Tregony's, fell sick of some unknown ailment.

We isolated it in a barn, which made the poor beast even more forlorn.

Tregony of course, refused to spend any time with his dragon, saying he had no intention of catching whatever ailment the monster had.

We sent for a wizard, and asked around for an animal doctor. But no one had any experience with dragons, and the magician could do little but ease the beasts last hours.

I am starting to wonder if the poor damned dragons shouldn't have stayed in the west, without matter what enemies threatened them.

Certainly we haven't brought them anything but grief. Perhaps, when this war is over, if it ever is, we should free all the dragons, and let them fly to wherever they wish.

I write this, but I know it's foolish, for many of the dragons are now thoroughly domesticated, and prefer our company. Also, those captured young could hardly be released into the wild, for they'd live but a few days, certainly less if they encountered wild dragons.

And what of those who've been kept in zoos, thoroughly accustomed to having their sheep or whatever provided to them on a barrow?

Once again it seems whatever Man touches he turns first to his own purposes, then to ruination.

Sorry to end my letter on such a gloomy note, but that's how I'm feeling at this moment

I do miss you

Hal

* * *

Hal hadn't known what would happen between him and Khiri when he returned to the war, and was quite surprised to find he thought of her often.

She wrote him daily, letters about the smallest, most normal things—what was going on with the sowing at Cayre a Carstares, the newest fripperies around the capital, what dinners she'd been invited to, and what she'd worn and eaten.

All of these, things Hal might've thought irritating, took him away from the war.

She was working at one of Rozen's hospitals, still living at Thom Lowess' city home, and missing him desperately.

Hal, in return, missed her, and wrote back as often as he could.

He was learning the loneliness of command, and, without Saslic, had no one to confide in, especially about his feelings about war, and about dragons.

He wondered if he was falling in love with the beasts and also with Lady Khiri.

He snorted. He had no time for such weaknesses, especially not now.

But still, when he thought of her, at the strangest times, a smile came to him, and his mood lightened.

Again, the troops were brought to full alert and, this time, told to be ready for an all-out attack.

Hal, once again, overflew the city, looking for any signs of trouble.

This time, he found them.

He saw, not far from where the first mine had been dug, men suddenly explode out of carefully camouflaged tunnels, running as if there were demons at their heels.

He expected to see smoke, once again, as the pit props were fired.

But nothing came.

Heavy cavalry and infantry moved forward, guarding the tunnels.

Hal wondered what had happened. Something must have gone wrong.

The tale didn't take long to reach the squadron.

The miners had been within a day of undermining the second wall when suddenly—stories varied from nowhere or from a tiny, unnoticed crevice—monsters boiled on them. They were not men, all stories agreed, could not be men, being coal black, with a rigid carapace atop their head like a lizard's. They had sharp pinchers for hands, and tore at the miners as they panicked, tried to escape the trap.

The monsters, whatever they were, feared sunlight or possibly open air, for none of them came out of the tunnel, either by day or night.

Evidently the master spell of two months earlier hadn't gotten rid of all the Roche sorcerers.

There matters rested for two days.

Then magicians came up, staying well clear of the tunnel, and began chanting, dancing, weaving in steps as more magic was sent out.

There was no smoke, no fire, but somehow the wizards' thaumaturgy worked upon the tunnel props.

Cracking noises came, Hal was told later. Then, slowly, majestically, the inner wall began toppling, outward, just as the miners had intended.

It leaned out at an impossible angle, but its stones never shattered. And then it stopped leaning, and held at that impossible angle.

Hal shook his head. Wizardry confounded wizardry.

Then he heard a squeal from one of the dragons, looked away from Aude.

Hurtling toward the city, above Hal and the other dragon flight, came Ky Yasin's black dragons.