Dragon and Herdsman

CHAPTER 14

There was no need for stealth now, not with the chattering gunfire in the distance drowning out all other sounds. Draycos leaped upward through the branches, ignoring the swishing leaves that otherwise would have been a dead giveaway of his position.

But then, why would the mercenaries below him even care about noises overhead? As far as they were concerned, he was dead. They had just killed him.

He could feel a snarl of fury building within him. Ruthlessly, he forced it back. Right now, the combat situation required his complete attention. There would be time later to mourn the innocent Phooka the mercenaries had slaughtered.

To mourn him, and perhaps bring him justice.

Fifteen feet above the ground, a particularly thick branch angled out to the right. Changing direction, Draycos headed along it until it began to bend beneath his weight. There, he crouched down, bringing Jack's tangler out from carrying position and settling it into his paw.

He was just in time. With the battle begun, and the K'da poet-warrior finally disposed of, the mercenaries had also abandoned their efforts at stealth and were hurrying northward toward the distant gunfire as quickly as the terrain and vegetation would allow. A group of four passed almost directly beneath him, their guns held ready.

Smiling tightly to himself, Draycos fired.

Four shots. Four invisible bursts of thread instantly entangling their victims. Four nearly invisible flickers of light as the capacitors delivered a powerful electric jolt through the threads.

Four muffled thuds as unconscious soldiers hit the ground.

The next foursome was moving through the woods twenty feet farther along the right flank. Tucking the tangler back under his foreleg, Draycos dug his claws into the branch for traction and threw himself toward them.

There was no convenient branch or tree trunk waiting at the far end of his leap. But again, subtlety was no longer required. He landed six feet behind the hurrying mercenaries, half-crushing a—fortunately—thornless bush. Four more shots, and four more of the enemy were out of action.

The tangler still had three shots left. With a little luck on his part and a little carelessness on his enemies', Draycos knew he could probably take out another foursome before the weapon ran dry.

But he didn't dare take the time. The gunfight ahead was growing more intense by the minute, and if Alison wasn't already in serious trouble she soon would be.

Meanwhile, Jack should be all right, provided he stayed put as he'd been told. Tucking the tangler back under his foreleg, Draycos leaped into the trees and headed north.

He had covered roughly half the distance when he spotted the flickering light of the gunshots. He had covered nearly half of what was left before the sound separated itself enough for him to realize that there were, in fact, three distinct types of weapons involved.

Two were standard projectile weapons: the mercenaries' rapid-fire machine guns and Alison's Corvine pistol. The third, from the soft chuffing noise it made, seemed to be a higher-powered version of Jack's own tangler. Apparently, Colonel Frost really was serious about taking Jack alive.

The light flashes were becoming more distinct, and Draycos could now see where each group was coming from. He made one final leap to a tree right on the edge of the battle and paused there to study the situation.

And as he did so, he found himself raising his estimation of Alison's warrior training, wherever that training had come from. Taken by surprise, and at the low end of five-to-one odds, she was nevertheless holding her own with remarkable skill.

Starting with her choice of combat position. She had taken refuge behind a large tree, which had apparently survived some long-ago flood that had washed away a good deal of the soil at its base. The result was a shallow hollow in the ground filled with an exposed tangle of thick roots. Lurking within the resulting cage, Alison could shoot at her attackers all she wanted, while they in turn had little chance of getting through with a tangler cartridge. Even as Draycos watched, yet another spattering of white threads burst harmlessly against the roots.

But that didn't mean she was safe. From the pattern of fire, it was clear the mercenaries were using their machine guns to pin her in place while they waited for the main force to sweep in on both sides and surround her. Once that happened, all they had to do was work someone in close enough to get a clear shot, and the battle would be over.

Or worse, they might realize it wasn't Jack in there and decide they didn't need her alive. The tree roots might block tangler cartridges, but they wouldn't protect her from the mercenaries' machine guns. Draycos had to take them out before what was left of the main force arrived.

Problem was, there were five soldiers pinning Alison down, and he had only three shots left in his tangler.

Which meant he would have to do this the hard way. Maneuvering around the side of the tree, he picked out the soldier farthest back from the others. If he took out that one first, then did the same to the next in line, he could use his remaining tangler cartridges on the other three.

He was bracing himself to leap when, without warning, a line of shots tore into the tree just below him.

He twisted back around the other side, barely making it before the slugs shattered the spot where he'd been crouching. Tucking his legs in close to his body, he pressed himself against the trunk, wincing as the edges of the tree disintegrated around him. The soldiers below had spotted him.

And unless he did something fast, he was going to die.

"Stay here," Draycos whispered, his voice barely audible over the distant gunfire. "I will return for you."

And with that, he was gone. Jack pressed his back against his tree, watching as the K'da's shadowy form headed upward and then disappeared to the right. A minute later, from that same direction, Jack thought he saw the flicker of a tangler charge. A few seconds after that, he caught a glimpse of another flicker a little farther away.

There was a whisper of movement to his left, and Jack turned just as more shadowy figures hurried past. He pressed harder into his tree, but as far as he could tell, none of the mercenaries even turned around.

And then they were gone.

Jack took a deep breath, feeling his heart pounding in his ears. Stay here, the dragon had said. Stay here where it was safe, while he and Alison dealt with the attack.

Like heck he would.

He found the first group of four soldiers barely ten feet away, sprawled unconscious on the ground. Draycos had nearly missed one of them, he noted: the tangler webbing only covered him from shoulders to hips.

That could prove useful. Unstrapping the soldier's helmet, Jack lifted it off and put it on.

"—not moving, and there's no response from any of them," Colonel Frost's voice came tardy from the helmet's comm. "Morgan must have gotten them."

"Copy," another clipped voice said. "What about the girl?"

"Caprizini has her pinned," Frost said. "We can take her any time we want. The important thing is to find Morgan."

"Copy," the other said. "Circling back now."

"Make sure he's in the bag before you move," Frost warned. "And remember: tanglers only. I want him alive and unharmed."

"Copy."

Jack grimaced. So they knew he was back here, and they were on their way to get him. Meanwhile, Draycos had scampered off with his only weapon.

But that was okay. It was time to trade up anyway.

The soldier had a small pistol belted at his right and a pair of concussion grenades ready at his left. His main weapon, still cradled in his slack grip, was a compact over/under weapon with a machine gun on top and a long-barreled tangler underneath.

It took Jack a few seconds to dig the gun out from under the tangler mesh. Folding its collapsible metal shoulder stock out of his way, he headed back toward the tree where Draycos had left him.

He was halfway there when the background chatter on his helmet comm abruptly changed tone. "Dumbarton, looks like Morgan's got Hammerstein's gun," Frost said sharply. "We've got movement on it—heading west."

Jack looked down at the weapon in his hands, his stomach suddenly knotting. So there were trackers in the guns. Frost had been trickier than he'd expected.

But if Frost had been clever enough to put in trackers, maybe he'd been clever enough for something else, too.

Experimentally, Jack swung the weapon in a horizontal arc. As he did so, a small red light just below the sight winked on and then off. He'd guessed right: along with the trackers, Frost had also included a friend/foe system to warn his soldiers if they were pointing their weapons at one another.

On the surface, the arrangement made a lot of sense. Even with night-sight goggles, vision in the middle of a forest was pretty limited. And with these lopsided odds. Jack and Alison could shoot at pretty much anything that moved, while their opponents had to be careful not to shoot one another in the confusion of battle.

The downside to the system was that once Jack had one of their guns, as he did now, all he had to do was find a line of fire that gave him a red dot and pull the trigger.

Problem was, the tangler didn't have nearly enough range to poke its way through all the undergrowth. That just left him the machine gun, and that would mean killing them.

His stomach twisted into a fresh knot. He'd never in his life killed anyone, and he didn't really want to start now. At some point it might become necessary, but that wasn't a decision he was ready to make on his own.

Fortunately, if he did this right, he wouldn't have to.

He swept the gun in a complete circle, noting where the lights went on. The Malison Ring soldiers didn't yet have him surrounded, though they were definitely working on it. From what Frost had said, they would probably wait until they had a complete circle before moving in.

That should give him just enough time.

He set the gun down beside the tree where Draycos had left him. Returning to the half-webbed soldier, he dragged the man over to the tree and rolled him into concealment beneath the reeds. He wrapped the other's limp hands around the gun, propping the weapon up on a couple of sticks. On an infrared viewer, the whole thing ought to look like someone lying quietly in ambush. Digging one last time beneath the tangler threads, Jack helped himself to the soldier's two concussion grenades. Then, taking a moment to heap a few handfuls of dead leaves over the soldier's legs for extra concealment, he returned to where the other three soldiers were sprawled.

Even with the limitations of night-vision systems. Jack's clothing would never pass as a Malison Ring uniform, and there wasn't enough time for him to swatch outfits with someone else. But there were other ways. Lying down on the ground beside one of the soldiers, Jack rolled the unconscious man up onto him, leaving only his helmeted head showing.

Again, it wasn't something that would hold up to close examination. But Jack had no intention of giving Dumbarton's soldiers that much time. Turning his head to face the tree where the fake ambush was waiting, he pulled the pin from one of the grenades and lay still.

The soldiers were good, all right. Even with the darkness and distant noise, Jack had expected he would spot some sign of their arrival. But his first warning was the sudden flurry of tangler shots spattering the decoy's position from all directions. "Done," Dumbarton's voice came in Jack's car.

"You got him?" Frost asked.

"We got him and a half," Dumbarton reported, a note of satisfaction in his voice.

"Watch it," Frost warned. "This kid's clever—"

"Colonel!" a new voice cut in. "I think I just spotted the K'da!"

"Where?" Frost snapped. "Up on a tree near the girl."

"Hammerstein said they already nailed him," Dumbarton objected.

"I guess Hammerstein was wrong," Frost said icily. "What's your excuse, Caprizini?"

There was a sputter of gunfire. "Can't get him from here," Caprizini said. "The trunk's too thick."

"Is he close enough to the ground to use a grenade?"

"He's too close to the girl," Caprizini said.

"Then just keep him pinned," Frost said. "As soon as Dumbarton's got Morgan, he can get over there and flank him."

"Do we still need the girl?" someone put in. "I thought we mostly wanted Morgan."

"Let's make sure we actually have Morgan first," Frost said. "Dumbarton, move in. Slow and careful."

"Copy."

There was a rustling in the bushes. Jack eased his head up a bit and saw a circle of shadowy figures closing in on the decoy's position. Something moved at the corner of his eye, and he flinched slightly as one of the soldiers took a long step over him and the man he was hiding beneath. The circle closed to within three yards of the tree.

And with a flip of his wrist, Jack lobbed the grenade right into the center.

He had expected a mild concussion blast like the ones created by the grenades he'd worked with back with the Whinyard's Edge. They were small, civilized things that would knock down everyone for three yards and leave them stunned and confused for a few minutes.

Unfortunately for Dumbarton and his buddies, the Malison Ring used much more powerful grenades.

The blast was deafening, the sound slamming into Jack like a runaway truck. The shock wave was even worse, lifting the unconscious soldier on top of him a couple of inches into the air and shoving him right off onto the ground.

Carefully, struggling to keep his balance. Jack pulled himself upright. He was shaking all over, half his body numb, and he'd been lying flat on the ground when the grenade went off. The soldiers who'd been moving toward the blast would be lucky if they were out of bed in a week.

There were voices coming from the helmet comm, but it was impossible to make out the words through the ringing in his ears. Pulling off the helmet, he tucked it under his arm and gave his ears a careful rub. His hearing was starting to come back, fortunately. Still rubbing at his ears, he turned toward the north.

And sprawled flat on his back as a pair of glowing silver eyes appeared squarely in front of him.

"Blast it," he muttered, scrambling back to his feet. It was the gray female Phooka, of course, the one Draycos had dubbed Taneem. "Don't do that."

Taneem cocked her head quizzically to the side and started to back up. "Wait a second," Jack said, stepping toward her as an idea started to sift through his still-dazed brain. The soldiers near Alison's position had said they had Draycos pinned up a tree.

But if they now saw Draycos on the ground running away . . .

"I need you to do something for me, Taneem," he said, gingerly cupping his hand under the Phooka's triangular jaw. She twitched a little at his touch but didn't try to pull away. "I need you to run north—that way"—he pointed—"until you find your other people and the Erassvas. Can you do that?"

She cocked her head again, her glowing eyes steady on him. Then, abruptly, she turned and bounded off through the trees.

"Right," Jack muttered under his breath. Whether she'd understood any of that or not, at least she was headed north. Now if she would just keep going past the Malison Ring soldiers and not get distracted by a pretty butterfly, this might work.

He could only hope she would also run past the soldiers fast enough to keep herself from getting shot.

But there was nothing he could do about that now. Settling the helmet back onto his head, trying to listen to the chatter through his still-ringing ears, he headed after her.

There was a flat crack, and even at his distance Draycos felt a ripple of the shock wave roll over his scales. From the sound and the lack of flame, he guessed it had come from a concussion-type grenade.

And it seemed to have come from near the spot where he'd left Jack.

Had the boy been captured?

He hissed in frustration. But whatever had happened to Jack, there wasn't anything Draycos could do about it right now. The soldiers below continued to plaster his tree with gunfire, the machine-gun rounds slowly but steadily chipping away at the edges of the trunk.

So far, Alison's own gunfire was keeping them from leaving their positions and coming around to where they could get a better shot. But sooner or later her weapon would run dry, or reinforcements would arrive, or the hail of metal would simply chew away enough of the tree for them to get to him.

They were making considerable progress toward that last goal, in fact. Already a couple of inches on each side of the trunk had been splintered away, forcing him to tuck his legs more tightly against his body to stay clear. Other rounds were hammering against the back of the tree, and he could only imagine how much more damage was being done back there. Two to three more minutes, if they didn't run out of ammunition, and they would start hitting him.

Unless . . .

He twisted his head around to look upward along the trunk. It was tall enough, he decided, and in the faint and sputtering light of the gunfire it looked like the top section was leaning the right way.

There was one way to find out for sure. Turning to face downward again, he made sure he had a solid grip on the trunk with his hind paws. Then, extending his forepaw claws, he began digging into the trunk in front of him.

By the time the flying splinters began jabbing against his scales, he'd carved a groove perhaps two inches deep into the wood. That might not be deep enough; but whether it was or not, he'd run out of time. Digging his foreleg claws into the tree beneath the groove, he leaned forward, pushing as hard as he could against the upper part of the tree with his hind legs.

Nothing happened. Setting his jaw, he pushed again. Still nothing. Even with the tree as badly damaged as it was, he simply didn't have the leverage to break the top section free.

And then, as he tried to think of something else to try, there was a startled shout from below him. The gunfire faltered; and then, to his surprise, it started up again at full force.

But this volley wasn't directed at him and his tree. Instead, it seemed to be concentrated on something at ground level.

Jack? Hissing helplessly between his teeth, Draycos forced himself to look.

But it wasn't the boy he spotted running at full speed through the trees. It was, instead, one of the Phookas.

How the creature had ended up here in the middle of the battle he couldn't guess. But for the moment, that didn't matter. What mattered was that with the mercenaries' attention distracted, he finally had a chance to move.

He twisted around on the tree, half-expecting to get shot in the process. But the soldiers' full attention was apparently on the sprinting Phooka below. Digging his claws into the wood, he headed up, climbing onto the thinner sections of trunk where there was little protection from gunfire from below.

But again, the mercenaries were apparently not watching. He reached a main branch extending outward in the direction of the soldiers and leaped onto it, running as far along it as he could.

The branch seemed to dip beneath his weight. Then, from below and behind him, he heard the sharp crack of fracturing wood. He stopped and turned back around.

And as he did so, the tree finally broke. Slowly, almost majestically, the top bowed over and began to topple toward the soldiers below. Holding tightly to his branch, Draycos rode it down.

The treetop didn't make it all the way to the ground, of course—the forest was far too dense for that. Instead, it tore its way noisily through the surrounding trees, ripping off its own branches and twigs as well as theirs, before getting caught up in larger branches and stopping a dozen feet above the ground.

But that was all Draycos needed. Caught in the rain of debris, with the spectacle of a tree falling toward them, the mercenaries had reacted exactly as he'd expected. Abandoning their positions, they were scrambling madly to get out of the way.

And as the treetop settled reluctantly to a halt, Draycos attacked.

It was no contest. Between Draycos's earlier tangler attack, the incident with the concussion grenade—whatever exactly had happened with that—and now the falling treetop, the soldiers had had one confusing distraction too many.

He caught the first two completely off-guard, knocking them out with blows to the sides of their necks before they even knew he was there. The third was able to turn nearly all the way around before Draycos sent him to join the other two. The fourth and fifth managed to get all the way around, and the fifth was even able to get off a wild shot.

And with that, it was over.

Or at least, Draycos hoped it was over. Crouching low to the ground, his senses alert, he scanned the area to the south. If Frost had sent in reinforcements, they could be arriving at any time.

Across the way, a figure wearing a Malison Ring helmet emerged from between a pair of trees. Draycos tensed but then relaxed as a hint of the newcomer's scent touched his nostrils and tongue. It was Jack, alive and apparently well.

There hadn't been any fire from Alison's position since the treetop had come down. Still, Draycos doubted she had lost any of her watchfulness. Keeping a wary eye in that direction, he headed toward the distant figure.

Jack had taken off the helmet by the time he arrived. "You've been a busy little dragon, haven't you?" he commented as he surveyed the area.

"And the busyness is going to continue," Draycos said. "We must leave before reinforcements arrive."

Jack shook his head. "Don't worry about it," he said. "Frost has another wave on the way, but I'm guessing they're just coming to retrieve this first bunch." He grinned tightly. "He wants them back before you hamstring them like you did those first two."

Draycos looked back toward where he'd left his latest batch of unconscious soldiers. Now that Jack mentioned it, it really wouldn't take very long to deal that same injury to them. And it would certainly put them out of the fight.

"Jack?" Alison's voice called cautiously.

Draycos grimaced. It wouldn't take long, but he certainly didn't want to do it with Alison watching. "We should be on our way," he said.

"No argument here," Jack agreed, putting out his hand.

Draycos laid his paw on the palm and slipped up the sleeve, settling into his accustomed place across the boy's back. A surge of warmth and strength flowed into the K'da as he did so—he hadn't realized just how long it had been since he'd been connected to his host. "I'm ready."

He sensed Jack taking a deep breath. "It's me, Alison," the boy called, starting forward. "Don't shoot."