21

Hal could feel it in the wind—winter was drawing to a close.

The war would begin again in earnest.

Other signs were the constant stream of couriers coming in and out of First Army headquarters in Paestum, fast dispatch boats coming across the Chicor Straits from Deraine and mud-spattered coaches from Fovant to the Sagene commander.

Less welcome were the streams of paperwork from headquarters and, worse yet, the Most Important Visitors from anywhere and everywhere, eager to "inspect" the famous—without anything yet on which to base it—First Dragon Squadron, and, even better, a meeting with their commander, the fabled Dragonmaster.

One visitor who was very welcome was Lord Bab, who showed up, and announced that the next time Hal had a Great Idea, he might keep it to himself. Cantabri admitted that he'd mentioned Hal's Special Raiding Squadron in Important Circles, which meant to King Asir. He'd immediately been given orders to form such a unit, at least battalion size, and have it ready for special tasks during the spring offensive.

Hal had offered very mock sympathy.

He had enough troubles of his own.

Somehow, when he'd envisioned this squadron, some years earlier, of dragon fliers who were trained, experienced, and the most dangerous Deraine and Sagene could offer, he didn't think that many of them might well be a shade on the arrogant side.

But so it was.

Rer Alcmaen had no sooner been checked out on a black dragon, requiring almost as short a time as he'd bragged about, when he cozened a fellow Sagene flier into going out across the lines predawn, against Hal's standing orders.

Kailas ripped into him, but halfheartedly, since Alcmaen came back with two victories. Of course, he claimed four, but unfortunately only two were witnessed, and sulked magnificently when Hal refused to send the claim forward to army headquarters.

Alcmaen's boasts had, in turn, fired Danikel, Baron Trochu, who also went out, without bothering to select a fellow flier, and came back with three claims. All of his dragons had gone down within sight of the lines, and were confirmed.

Naturally, the Sagene broadsheets went wild with these five victories, and trumpeted loudly about the true superiority of the Sagene fliers.

These brags meant the world to Alcmaen, nothing at all, it seemed, to Danikel.

But it meant, to Hal, that he couldn't discipline the two without incurring the wrath of the broadsheets and, most likely, King Asir.

Hal damned his new diplomatic nature, went back to work.

The overall problem with his experienced fliers was that few of them thought they had anything to learn.

Hal knew better, but had to pose his lessons very carefully, for fear of throwing pouts into his killers.

He had figured out six rules for living while flying dragons about: 1. Always get the upper hand before you go into a fight. That meant use altitude, surprise, blind angles, clouds. If you don't have the advantage going in, don't fight. Always beware the dragon in the sun, coming at you from your blind spot, and always try to be the dragon in the sun.

2. Your dragon probably knows better than you do. In any event, it can't hurt to pay attention to his or her squeals, honks, and moods.

3. Always have a back door out of a fight. Never get cornered. If you are, try to climb out of it. Never get into a diving or a turning contest with a Roche if you can avoid it—he and his dragon are liable to be better at it than you are, and if you learn that fifty feet above the ground, you are pretty well out of options.

4. Always have numbers before you attack. Never one to one, seldom two to one, and don't get cocky and assume you've got a kill with three to one.

5. War isn't a sport. It's a killing time, so don't think about chivalry, or about "being fair."

6. Finally, the situation makes the rules. All of the first five can be made meaningless in a second, and then you'd best be able to figure, and fly, your way to safety.

All most logical. But Hal had to be very wary of just how he got his fliers to learn them.

"I think," he grumbled one evening to Gart, "I'd just as rather use a godsdamned bungstarter to get things into some of these peoples' minds."

"Howsabout," Mariah suggested, "I winkle up a wee spell.

It'll either make 'em smart… or perhaps change the lot into dormice."

"You aren't that good a wizard," Gart said.

"Want to bet?"

Gart considered, then shook her head.

"I'd play hell losing… especially as a dormouse. I understand they don't take being beaten with any sort of composure."

Hal was making the armorer Joh Kious a rich man, if not necessarily a happy one, since Kious despised working with a bureaucracy. Even with Hal walking point for him, there was still too much paperwork for the independent-minded craftsman.

He had to hire several men to built the multiple-bolt crossbows for Hal's squadron, and was also busy making modified firebottles. These had originally been thin glass bottles, with a fire-making spell and flammable liquid inside.

Hal had come up with the second generation, working with Lieutenant Lord Callo Goang. This was a long dart, the length of a man's arm. It was cast of cheap lead alloy, both to save money and for ease of breaking. It was made in two parts that screwed together. In the hollow center was more of the flammable liquid, sealed with a spell.

These firedarts were vastly more accurate and handy than the old firebottles, although a good supply of the latter was kept in the armory, in the event of shortages.

Hal had the niggling of another idea for another weapon, couldn't quite get it to appear.

Maybe it'd come to him during the battle.

"Here, then, is my plan," Lord Egibi, Commander of the First Army, said, his white mustaches ruffling slightly in the breeze blowing into the room of the manor house serving as First Army headquarters.

Hal tried to keep his expression neutral, studied the map on the easel.

"It appears to be the same as other offensives we've tried which have failed," Egibi went on. "A frontal assault, all along the Roche lines, intended to finally drive them from the heights they've held for over a year.

"But it isn't… quite.

"First, we won't have the usual buildup from our siege machines, which seems only to give the Roche warning. Instead, chosen units will attack, and the Roche will think it's only a raid in force.

"Then, as they move forward, there'll be a great spell mounted against the Roche, and the entire front will attack in unison, as part of the second wave.

"A third element, over here, will be making a flank attack.

"Your opinion, Lord Kailas?"

Hal decided to be politic.

"I'm just a flier, sir. I have no opinion, and wonder only what you intend for my squadron to do."

"I want no special efforts before the day of attack that might give the Roche warning," Egibi said. "Then, on that day, I want you, in force, over their lines. I want you to have complete control of the air, so the Roche have no warning."

Hal nodded, thought.

"I have a better idea, sir."

Egibi waited.

"I would like to make reconnaissances, starting today, of all Roche landing fields behind their lines.

"None of the fliers will have any idea of your grand strategy," Hal continued, thankful that he hadn't used the lesser word tactics. "So, if they're brought down, they'll have nothing to tell their inquisitors.

"Then, on Attack Day, instead of being over the lines, I'll have my squadron over the Roche fields. With any luck, their fliers won't able to get airborne at all."

"Hmm. Interesting," Egibi said. "And certainly it's easier to shoot down a duck frowsting about in a marsh than when it gets into the air.

"Yes. Yes, I like your idea a lot."

Lord Bab Cantabri stormed into Hal's tent.

"What do you have to drink?"

Hal gauged Bab's anger, decided to pour a very strong brandy instead of wine.

Cantabri shot it down, held out the glass for more.

"And what put you into such a charming mood?" Hal asked.

"Have you been briefed by our good lord and master about the upcoming offensive?"

"I have," Hal said. "The day before yesterday."

"Did he happen to point out a certain diversionary attack aimed at the Roche right flank?"

"He did."

"Did you happen to notice what unit is to make that attack?"

"Uh-oh," Hal said.

"Uh-oh is right," Cantabri stormed. "I've spent the last two months carefully building up my stock of killers to be good at everything from creeping through the bushes to swimming across a river and leaving nary a splash.

"And so, for my sweat and their blood, what do we get? The chance to stand shoulder to shoulder, just like we were basic line animals, and march forward until some numbwit with a spear kills us.

"What a godsdamned waste."

"At least you're not part of the frontal assault," Hal said.

"Big godsdamned deal," Cantabri said. "Don't you think the Roche might just happen to have built up their flanks? And that if they see a bunch of warriors pelting uphill toward them they might be able to fight back?

"Or, worse, since my men are lightly armed, putting a few companies of heavy cavalry downslope to wipe 'em out?"

Hal nodded reluctant agreement.

"The only damned chance that I can think of to help is to get some light cavalry elements on my left flank," Cantabri growled, "and scare the bastards.

"Not that I think anybody on either side gets scared very easily these days."

It was nice, this high above the earth, Hal thought, as Storm arced around a towering cumulus cloud, and dove through a tunnel in the next one.

Behind him, to the west, bigger clouds promising a storm were onrushing.

But Hal would be finished with his mission before they arrived, although he might get a little wet and blown about going home.

The dragon seemed just as happy to be up here sporting about, no one else in the sky, instead of snarling after enemies as Hal was.

But as soon as Kailas looked down, he was torn back to reality, seeing the bare bluffs of the Roche front lines below him, so fought over that nothing could grow, and there was nothing but man's dugouts and shattered, torn things that had been trees.

He was too high to see the rotting bodies underneath them, didn't want to think about how many more the forthcoming offensive would bring.

Hal prodded Storm on east, and took a map from the pouch clipped to Storm's carapace.

Little by little his fliers had filled in where the Roche dragon fields were.

There was only one "hole," a blank spot some three leagues back of the Roche forward positions.

Two fliers had reported black dragons orbiting that area, and so Hal had decided to take the last and possibly most dangerous reconnaissance himself.

He was grateful for the spotty cloud cover that let him duck in and out, hopefully not seen by anyone on the ground who might give the alarm about a lone flier, and set a trap for his return.

By now Kailas was a good judge of distance traveled, and as he came up on three leagues, he began scanning the ground below very carefully.

His eye was caught by a bit of a blur, as if he'd gotten something in his eye.

Instead of rubbing it, or looking away, he stared harder into the blur.

Very suddenly, two black dragons came out of that blur, out of nowhere, taking off.

The blur was a fairly high-level spell, cast over what must be a dragon field.

Hal decided he should go lower and make a swift pass over the blur, to see if he could make out any details, hopefully surprising the two Roche dragons below.

This, he thought, would be a decent way to get killed. He ought to be scooting for home.

But duty—or maybe his own pride—called.

He lifted the reins to put Storm into a dive, and two more blacks came out of a cloud at him, less than half a mile away.

Hal swore.

Caught, mooning about as if he were on his first combat flight.

They had a slight height advantage, and were coming in fast, keeping close on each other.

Experienced fliers.

Was that Ky Yasin's squadron below, under that spell?

Later for ponderings.

Hal yanked Storm's reins, but the dragon needed no guidance. He'd seen the blacks, and was already banking into them, shrilling a challenge.

Dragon pride was almost as suicidal as man's.

Hal cursed again, realizing he hadn't readied his crossbow when he crossed the lines into Roche territory, a violation of one of his standing orders.

He was thinking, as he cocked his crossbow, and made sure the ammunition carrier was locked firmly atop the weapon, that he wasn't fit to fly with his squadron, let alone command it. He'd been too long away from combat, and had let himself get sloppy.

Hal steered Storm toward the dragon on the right, flying head-on at the monster, fully half again as big as Storm.

There'd either be a collision, or someone would veer away.

The Roche flier's wingmate could do nothing except fire his conventional bow at Hal at a distance when they closed. If he tried to do more, there'd be a good likelihood of collision.

Hal had his crossbow up, aiming.

The Roche flier saw it, flinched, broke at less than twenty yards, pulled his reins to bank away.

Hal fired, as the black's wing almost brushed Storm, and his bolt caught the flier in the side.

He heard the scream as the man contorted, fell from his saddle, spun down toward the ground far below.

Hal forgot him, working his cocking handle and reloading.

He pushed his left knee against Storm, and the dragon veered to the side in a flat turn as the dead flier's wingmate brought his dragon around after Hal.

Now, just ahead, was one of those clouds.

Hal headed straight for it, the back of his mind wishing that the cloud would be as soft as it looked, a fleecy pillow.

It wasn't. Suddenly the world was gray, spattering rain, and Hal couldn't see Storm's head. But at least the wind around him wasn't a gale.

The dragon didn't like clouds any better than any flier did, and blatted a complaint.

Hal kept his mental image of where he was, where the other Roche flier was, counted four, then pulled Storm into a hard bank to the right and up.

He held the climbing turn until Storm was almost headed back the way they'd come, then snapped his reins hard.

He could hear, even if he couldn't see, Storm's wings crack harder, and then they were out of the cloud.

Just below, and to one side, as he'd hoped, was the other flier, pulling his own dragon into a bank, unwilling to follow Hal into the cloud.

He heard the sound of Storm's wings, looked up and saw the dragon, just as Hal fired. The bolt took him in the neck, and he flopped forward on his mount.

Hal turned Storm again.

Somewhere, coming up fast, would be the other two dragons, who surely would have seen Hal.

He gigged Storm again, and they went back, fast, the way they'd come.

Behind him, still below, were the other two Roche dragons.

There was a solid bank of clouds ahead.

Hal thought about turning back, and attacking the other two black dragons, held back his bloodlust.

He'd been lucky once.

He knew too many soldiers who had counted on their luck one too many times.

Storm dove into the cloud, and this one was the other's big brother.

The dragon was caught, lifted a thousand feet, then driven back down by the wind, while rain spattered Hal's face, feeling like rocks.

They were on their side, Storm frantically trying to control himself, and then they were out of the cloud, under it, the world around them gray with rain.

The ground was less than a hundred feet below them, and there was no sign of life as the storm hammered the earth.

Hal went for the lines, climbing to about three hundred feet as he crossed them.

To his right, a catapult spat a long bolt up, missed him by yards, and Hal was safe, on his own side of the lines.

He had seen enough to fill in that last blank on his map.

Now to plan the squadron's doings on Attack Day.

He saw Sir Thom Lowess at Egibi's headquarters, looking innocent, and knew the day for the offensive would be very soon.