25

Hal was busy in the operations section tent the next day when a rather plaintive Mynta Gart came in.

"Uh, sir… there's a delivery for you."

"Which is?"

"It appears to be, well, two wagonloads of pebbles."

"Just what I've been expecting," Hal said, putting eagerness into his voice.

Gart looked at him plaintively, wanting an explanation.

Hal, for pure meanness, didn't give her one, but carefully inspected the loads of broken-up granite, ordered them moved to a secure location, and, just because he didn't have any latrines to dig, ordered Gart to put the unit's sinners on guard over the rocks.

Mentally cackling, he went back to his maps, laying out arcs east and south of their location. The arcs roughly represented the range a dragon could fly at one time—six hours, a distance of about forty leagues, depending on weather, load, winds and such.

He found it a bit hard to concentrate. Where the hells was that damned Bodrugan?

* * *

The wizard showed up two days later, accompanied by Limingo, his superior.

"We had a bit of a problem," Limingo said, "figuring out a way to make the spell universal, but not so complicated that somebody with his mind on other things—say, not having his head eaten by a Roche dragon—couldn't still remember it.

"But we're now adept at turning stones into crags, as soon as I cast an enchantment over your pebbles that's guaranteed to make them ambitious little rocks. Do you have a wizard on the squadron?"

"Barely," Hal said, and sent for Farren Mariah, and, after thought, Lieutenant Goang, who he'd been rather ignoring of late.

Mariah came, was informed he was now Official First Squadron Thaumaturge, protested loudly, was told to be silent and obey his orders by Kailas.

A bit sullenly, he went with Limingo, Bodrugan and Goang to the still-guarded rock heap.

Hal lagged behind, found reasons to go back to the map tent. In spite of everything, he was still a little nervous around magicians.

In about an hour, Limingo and the other two came back to him.

"There," the wizard said. "Your man here can now do the resupply, when you run out of the present pile of pebbles, although the quartermaster corps may raise an eyebrow when he requisitions oil, hemlock, dried yew.

"And, by the way, after the war I've suggested he could do much worse than study wizardry."

"The question remains," Mariah said, ignoring Limingo's words, "just who's about to be playing rocksmasher first before I workies workies workies my wizardry?"

"You," Hal said. "If you don't watch yourself."

"Aarh," Farren said cheerily. "I'll be watchin' myself when the army issues me a mirror." His expression turned dreamy. "Now there's a thought. A nice, full length glass, made of polished silver, that I can hang over my bunk for when I have visitors."

"Shut up," Hal advised. "Now, Limingo, if you'll show us the next stage?"

Bodrugan handed Hal a pebble.

"Now," the young magician said, "you're going to repeat after me, the following—"

"Uh… shouldn't we hide our little heinies outside the tent first?" Mariah said.

"Good point," Limingo said.

They went out.

"Repeat after me," and Hal obeyed:

Antal, Hant, Wivel

Grow

You were

Now be again

You must

You shall

Antel, Hant, Wivel.

The tiny rock was writhing in Hal's hand. He hastily let it drop. The rock grew, hurting Hal's eyes to watch. It got bigger and bigger, and Hal had to jump out of the way. It caved in the side of the map tent, then stopped growing.

"Good gods," Hal managed. "I didn't remember that rock being that frigging big."

Goang was looking at the boulder in considerable amazement.

"I thought I'd had some ideas," he said, mostly to himself. "But I never thought about using magic."

Fliers were running toward them.

Hal, trying to recover his calm, looked at Limingo.

"Those words at the beginning and end… do they mean anything?"

"They do… sort of," the wizard said. "I'm not sure just what, though.

Maybe they send out vibrations to other worlds, other forces. Maybe they even call demons. Or maybe they're some sort of a prayer.

"Mmmh," Hal said. He turned to Mariah.

"Get Mynta here. I want her to know that anybody who even breathes about what just happened can count on becoming a spear-carrier within the day.

"And bring Storm out. I'm going to headquarters."

"Ye gods," Cantabri said. "This will work all the time?"

"Limingo said it would."

"And your intent?"

"I'm going to go throw rocks at Queen Norcia in her capital."

"That will drive her even further into raving," Cantabri said. "And certainly won't make her underlings any happier.

"But… Carcaor is a long, a very long flight from here."

"More than two hundred leagues," Hal agreed.

"How will you be able to reach it?"

"I'm working on that right now," Hal said confidently. "But I'm sure it can be done. There's wild country between, and all I need is feed for my dragons. I think it'll take about three or four weeks before I'm ready to mount an attack."

"And if your raid succeeds?"

"Then," Hal said, voice hard, "we can train other flights to do the same, not just to Carcaor but to Roche's other cities. Take the war home to Norcia, and all the noblemen who think the war is something at a great distance."

Cantabri considered.

"I'm going to messenger the king, requesting permission for the First Army to refuse its left flank against the Roche, and turn south. For Carcaor. I think it's time to go for the throat.

"Now, perhaps, the end of this damned war is in sight."

* * *

Now there were many things to accomplish.

Hal's study of the maps of Roche, even though they were frequently sketchy, suggested way stations for his dragons.

His plan, most risky, was to take a flight of dragons toward the capital, Carcaor. Each night they'd fly to the dragons' limits, then land at previously chosen fields, rest and eat, then continue on.

The problem, of course, was that they must not be spotted by any Roche en route.

It was complicated, but not overly so, Hal thought.

The first stage was to seal off the First Squadron's base. No one was permitted out, and anyone arriving with supplies or replacements would not be permitted to contact more than a handful of people.

He thought he was perhaps worrying too much—all that his fliers could know was that Hal had suddenly developed the ability to create large rocks—the map tent was still half crushed.

What he intended to do with that was known only to Hal and Cantabri.

But still…

Naturally, the word quickly spread that something was in the works as First Army headquarters again swarmed with dispatch riders.

Someone told the taletellers that the Dragonmaster's First Squadron was closed to all visitors, which of course made them swarm around.

Hal was forced to borrow two platoons of Cantabri's Raiding Squadron to walk guard around the field, which they considered most humiliating and beneath them.

Hal agreed… but he knew these men wouldn't talk, no matter what they heard.

Besides, he'd need, he was fairly sure, at least three of them for his plan to work.

A couple of taletellers tried creeping through the woods into the camp, were caught by the raiders, and escorted out. One had a thick ear, and kept peering about as he went, expecting, Hal supposed, to see some sort of secret weapon abuilding.

Certainly he saw nothing in a stupid boulder that must've rolled into the map tent, almost wrecking it.

Three days after he'd told Cantabri what he intended, a sentry reported there was a man on the main road who refused to leave without seeing Hal.

"Have you tried chousting him with a halberd?"

"Thought of it, sir," the sentry said. "But he's a sir, and I don't know shit about the military, but I'll bet if you start whacking sirs and dukes and earls and barons about, you're going to get yourself in trouble."

"Very well," Hal said. "I'll take care of him."

The visitor was Sir Thom Lowess, who sat comfortably in an expensive-looking surrey, laden with boxes.

"Good day, Lord Kailas," he said.

"Good day to you, Sir Thom," Hal said. "And I'm afraid I'm busy, and can't spare the time you deserve."

"I need no time from you," Sir Thom said. "I desire entrance to your camp."

"It's closed."

Sir Thom just looked at him. Hal thought.

"If you come in, you won't be able to come out for at least three weeks,"

Hal grudged.

"Let me ask you this," Sir Thom said, looking about to ensure there was no one within earshot except the pair of sentries. "If I come in, will my tale be worth my being mewed up for that long?"

Hal hesitated. "Yes," he said grudgingly.

"Then I'm fortunate that I brought sufficient luxuries, aren't I?"

"Let him enter," Hal said to the sentries. "And welcome, I suppose."

* * *

The most dangerous part of the mission was at the start. That would involve scouting for the layover points, and must be completely hidden.

Hal decided he'd take four other dragons. He'd be happier with less, but he'd need them for the passengers they'd carry.

Since he'd be leading the formation, he didn't want to overburden Storm, in the event he had to do some rapid maneuvering.

He first chose Farren Mariah, not because he was the strongest flier in the squadron, but because he trusted him absolutely. Mariah had already saved his life once, and Hal hoped he'd never have the chance to do it again.

Second was Danikel, Baron Trochu, since he was not only Sagene, but the best flier Hal had.

Third was one-eyed Pisidia. Hal was learning he was one of the most dangerous killers in the squadron.

Fourth was Sir Alt Hofei, from the prison camp.

Sir Thom was frantic for the full story of what was up, which Hal refused him.

"If I don't come back," he explained, "then I don't have to look like a damned fool as a corpse."

"But what will I say then?"

"Start a story," Hal suggested, "that I vanished into the unknown, in a raging battle with sixteen black Roche dragons."

Lowess looked at him dubiously.

"You wouldn't have made that bad a taleteller, you know. Sixteen… let's go for ten."

Hal shrugged, and told his orderly, Uluch, what he'd be taking.

In spite of it being summer, flying at height would be chill.

Carcaor lay at the conjunction of three fertile valleys, on the Ichili River, which bisected Roche.

To keep things secret, Hal planned for the reconnaissance flight to keep to the mountains, where they'd be less likely to be seen… and where flying might be a little chill.

So high-top boots, sheepskin coats, gauntlets, and lined tied-down caps were in order.

"One of these days," Farren predicted gloomily, "my gods-damned dragon's going to be peckish, see me in this damned coat, and think I'm dinner. Or breakfast."

Chincha, his flying and bed partner, giggled.

"You are, you know."

Farren actually blushed.

Kailas set all four flights to practicing what appeared to be utterly nonsensical flying, half expecting to return to a mutiny.

Hal had asked Limingo for a weather spell to give him some cover.

Limingo had said that would be easy, since the Roche magicians would also like a break in the spring balminess that might slow the slow Sagene-Deraine wheel to the right.

It wasn't quite raining, but what Farren called spitting near dawn.

Hal's troops were assembled and fed.

The dragons seemed to realize something unusual was coming, and stamped in eagerness to be away.

They loaded each dragon with two men, the flier and one man from the Raiding Squadron with a heavy pack, plus, slung under their bellies, a butchered sheep wrapped in canvas.

Then they lumbered down the long field, and were in the air, flying almost due east.

Hal had ordered them to keep close to the ground, and give the alarm if they spotted any Roche dragons.

They saw none, and whisked over the Roche lines before any bolts came up, although Hal saw a couple of hastily fired arrows lifting through the mist.

Then they were over the Roche rear lines, and Hal saw confusion and tumult spread as they passed.

He waited until he'd reached open country, then turned his course, by compass, to south-southeast, and went high.

The first leg of his scout would be the longest, which he liked because it would get him farther from the Roche lines, and the possibility of prying cavalrymen, but he disliked because, on the return, if there were casualties or wounded, that could be the killer.

He was fairly certain that first day's destination would not be a problem, since his target had been scouted by a daring cavalry patrol a few weeks earlier.

It was an open, supposedly uninhabited meadow in the middle of a cluster of low hills.

The land below wound past. Most of the farms had been abandoned, a few looted by the Roche, as the armies approached them.

The ground climbed, and now there were trees, growing thicker. Here and there was the smoke from a cottage's cook-store, or bigger plumes from charcoal-makers.

Then there was nothing but trees and, here and there, ponds and small lakes.

The sun was moving down the sky when they found the meadow. They circled it once, made sure it was uninhabited, and landed.

They fed the dragons half a sheep each, ate their own iron rations, and the fliers slept, while the raiders kept watch.

Hal woke well before dawn, and turned the men out.

One raider would stay here, keeping guard, until the raid.

Again, they took off, headed almost due south.

Toward Carcaor.

The first step had gone so smoothly Kailas had to beat back a bit of hope.

He'd learned that elaborate plans never work in war, and wondered why he'd allowed himself to come up with this cockamamie idea.

Probably getting his ear blown into by Lord Cantabri as being the War's Solution had a lot to do with it.

Or maybe he was turning into a glory hound like Alcmaen.

He gloomed on, while Storm's wings beat steadily.

The land below flattened, and large, rich farms and ranches reached on either side. The farmhouses were manor houses, and cattle grazed quietly.

One of the dragons behind saw all this meat on the hoof, and moaned plaintively.

A pair of bulls looked up, saw the dragons, and went back to grazing.

A good sign, Hal thought. They'd never seen the questing beasts before.

Or else, being bulls, not steers, they simply didn't give a damn, and welcomed those aerial monsters to come down and try their battle skills.

But the war had come here, too, Hal noted. There were few herdsmen in the fields, and the few people about looked up curiously. Hal hoped they thought the dragon flight was Roche, since this was a distance behind the lines.

The maps he'd consulted had gotten more and more slender the deeper they went into Roche.

Hal's goal for the second night had been marked as a hunting camp, a summering place for the nobility of the valley they'd left behind.

But as they circled it, it was evident the camp had been turned into some kind of farm. The open meadows, where stags might have grazed, waiting to become targets, had been plowed and worked, growing what, Hal had not the slightest.

The other fliers had seen this as well, and looked to Hal for guidance.

He waved them onward.

His second choice was another hour's flight on, but that put them closer to Carcaor.

Hal hadn't thought it nearly as satisfactory, since all the map showed was a small lake. Where there were lakes, there could well be people.

He found the lake, signaled twice with his trumpet, waved for the others to orbit the lake.

Hal took Storm low, until the dragon's wings sent wavelets across the lake. Some kind of fish jumped, and a few birds took off from the trees that almost overhung the water.

But there was no sign of people, now or in the past.

Hal blasted once, and the trumpet rang across the hills rimming the lake.

He brought Storm down on water.

It had been a while since Storm had made a water landing, and didn't much like the idea.

But he splashed down, and then realized this was a great deal softer than landing on turf.

The dragon blatted in pleasure, as the other dragons came down.

Hal prodded Storm to swim toward a shelving beach, and the dragon waddled up on it, wings whipping, water spraying.

This would do very well for a second base.

The rest of the sheep were eaten by the dragons, and watch was posted again.

But it was very hard to feel any particular threat in this lonely place.

Hal called the raider who'd been detailed as guard/signaler for this spot.

"What do you think?"

The man grinned.

"I like it."

"You won't get lonely?"

"Sir… I was a poacher, back before the war. And I've seen animal tracks about. No. I won't get lonely. And I'll stay busy."

Hal doffed and dove into the lake. The others followed.

Farren swam up to him, cavorting like an eel.

"You notice one thing, O my fearless leader?"

"Many things," Kailas said. "Such as you're leaving a disgusting wake.

You need to bathe more often."

Farren snorted.

"I'm as clean as any animal that walks, stalks, staggers or wanders the earth, so there'll be an end of insults to the lower ranks, if you please."

Hal suddenly realized something, almost blurted it, caught himself.

"So what am I supposed to notice?" he asked instead.

"All this godsdamned open land, furrow and burrow, here and there."

"So?"

"So why'd these slimy bastards start this war, anyway?"

"I didn't know you needed a reason for a war," Hal answered, turning serious.

"Surely you do. For land, for freedom, for naked women… some kind of purplous purpose," Mariah said. "When we win, I think we ought to take a good chunk of it away from these eejiots, since they don't know what to do with it.

"Enough for a decent province, and give it to some deserving lad."

"Named Mariah, by chance?"

"Ah, that'd do for a starter, wouldn't it? Land for all… now there's a motto worth fighting for."

"Or," Danikel said, having swum up beside them, "give it to the dragons."

"Now that's an idea," Hal said.

"But it'll never happen," Danikel said. "They're our partners… as long as the blood keeps flowing. When that's over, we'll forget 'em. Or put them back in flying shows."

"Why not?" a suddenly bitter Mariah said. "You don't think they'll remember us sojers the turning of one glass after the last bow shot, do you?"

Hal decided this was depressing, decided to follow the lead of Pisidia, who was floating, quite motionless, on his back in lake's middle.

* * *

The third day's stop was at the same time the least laid out and the one Hal was least concerned about.

Again, it led along a winding valley, with a navigable river at its bottom.

They saw the outskirts of two small cities, avoided them, and flew on, up into foothills.

There'd been little on the maps about this area, but Hal had quizzed Goang about his studies with the hill tribes. This part of Roche he knew, after a fashion, and apologetically, saying he wished he knew more, told Kailas what information he had.

One bit of data had been vital, and Hal hoped the war hadn't changed this, as it had so many other things.

It hadn't.

It was, again, late on a hot and wearisome afternoon when the fliers saw what Hal had hoped they would: rolling hills, with vast herds of sheep grazing on them.

The region was a dragon commissary on four legs.

All they needed to do was find a landing ground near one of the flocks, which were grazed unattended, and close to a stream.

The dragons were in heaven, and got two sheep each.

Then the fliers drove them back, to keep them from surfeiting themselves into a happy coma.

This time, they posted close watch, in the event of seeing a shepherd, but no one disturbed them.

The third guard was let off, with orders to stay well out of sight, but if he was sighted, to make sure he killed both shepherd and dogs.

Then the dragons flew on.

The final day's flight was fairly short, ending not long after noon.

The maps had improved, and Hal had chanced selecting one peak that was marked as having RUINS on its flat summit.

Nothing more.

They saw the ruins as they closed on the jutting peak. Someone had built a castle a long time before atop the crest, and Hal wondered how they'd brought the great stones up the steep slopes.

They landed in an open, once-paved area.

Far below, the Ichili River curved, the river that led south to where Deraine and Sagene had seen a great defeat at Kalabas, and Hal's love Saslic had died. There was a steady stream of trading ships and barges, and so Hal kept below the horizon, even though he'd be no more than a dot to the ships below.

Two bends of the river, and they would reach Carcaor.

Hal said they could expect Roche surveillance in the air, and so took their dragons downslope a bit, to where trees curled.

They were strange-leafed and -shaped. No one could remember having seen ones like them.

The dragons were nervous, without cause, and Hal felt his skin crawling a bit.

He decided it was nerves, being this close to the Roche capital.

The others were just as ill at ease, and no one could offer an explanation.

They fed the dragons and ate.

Hal chanced walking up to the castle, to see if he could determine anything of its purpose or origin.

The walls were smashed in, as if a giant's hand had battered them down. It had to have been winter storms after the place was abandoned, Hal thought.

There were a few open passageways remaining, oddly constructed, very wide and very tall.

Hal went through one, into the keep.

It stretched roofless above him, made of huge monolithic stones, notched for wooden floors here and there.

Whoever built it had fancied high ceilings, Hal thought. Even with thick beam floors, the ceilings would still have been twenty feet high.

He couldn't tell how tall the keep had been—its roof had been torn away, and the keep's stump was jagged, like a skull's teeth.

Hal wondered why he'd thought of that image, decided it was getting on toward dark, and he didn't want to chance slipping in the night.

He went back to the others, who had, in spite of the heat atop the mountain, built a low fire concealed by a pile of rubble.

At full dark, they reluctantly put the fire out, and settled in for the night.

Now, with three of the raiders gone, it was the fliers who stood watch along with the last raider, who was to be left here.

Hal drowsed, had ugly dreams he couldn't remember when he jerked awake.

He fully expected something—he didn't know what—to happen atop this mountain.

But nothing did.

The next morning, they prepared to leave.

Hal wanted to chance flying around those bends, to make sure Carcaor was really there.

But he knew better.

For some reason, he told the raider to stay clear of the castle, and make his watch somewhere below it.

The man glanced up at the ruin, shivered.

"There's no worry about me going near that, sir. No worry at all."

Hal told him they'd be back within a week, and for him to stand firm.

"After all," he said, trying to embolden the man, "you're the furthest forward soldier in this war. Something to tell your children in another time and place."

The man nodded, didn't smile back.

The five dragons took off, and wended their way back toward the front lines without incident.

Stage One was complete.

Now for the battle.