When Dragons Rage

55

For General Markus Adrogans, the battle made no sense. There, in the distance, barely a dozen miles away, lay Svarskya. He’d remembered it as a shining city of tall towers and stout walls, but now it sprawled broken and blackened, with smoke rising as if a siege had already shattered the defenders. In the harbor beyond it lay a fleet of ships, and he suspected they’d brought reinforcements.

In pushing north along the river road to the capital, he had progressed cautiously. More troops came in from the Guranin Highlands to garrison the Three Brothers. The highlanders had greatly enjoyed that idea, and the clans negotiated hard to get the tower they thought the most storied. Once he had his rear secure and his troops rested, he headed north and sent General Caro with the Alcidese Horse Guards ahead for reconnaissance in force, while the elves and Beal mot Tsuvo’s people fanned out through the countryside.

Between the Three Brothers and Svarskya itself there lay only one good battleground where the Aurolani could hope to stop him shy of the city. The valley that the river had cut through the mountains spread out into vast coastal plains. To avoid the marshlands to the east, the road crossed the Svar River over a massive bridge. Known as the Svar Bridge, it had been constructed with fortifications at either approach, which would make it easy to hold against attack.

Caro and his heavy cavalry battalion arrived to find the bridge only lightly defended. Though infantry support would be days coming, Caro bravely took the bridge and made ready to hold it. Once word came back to the main body of troops that the Horse Guards were holding the bridge, the Alcidese King’s Heavy Guards infantry regiment requested and received permission to hurry ahead to support their countrymen.

Gyrkyme scouts and messengers had continuously flown back and forth to keep Adrogans informed, but the majority of their messages indicated that nothing was happening. Then, when Adrogans and the main body of troops were but a day away, the Aurolani marched a light infantry regiment south and staged a first attack on the bridge.

The Alcidese repulsed the attack easily. While they only did light damage to the enemy—estimated at less than a hundred killed or wounded—their casualties were even fewer. The Aurolani troops withdrew, then more troops headed south from the city, including a battalion of light cavalry on frost-claws and a regiment of heavy infantry including some hoargoun and the kryalniri.

What surprised and amazed Adrogans was that the Aurolani had positioned themselves farther north than necessary and had let the sunken road split their east wing from the main body of their formation. The east wing was then trapped between the road and the river, seriously limiting their ability to do much at all. Moreover, the Aurolani position allowed Adrogans to send his own troops across the bridge and form them up in broad lines.

The Aurolani were inviting him to engage in a set-piece battle, where he had the advantage in both numbers and terrain. The only way that would have made sense was if they had dragonels with them. That weapon’s destructive capability could have done serious damage to his troops in formation, but without them, the outnumbered Aurolani forces were doomed.

Adrogans surveyed the battlefield. From the bridge, the land began a gradual descent through the plains to the city. Snow covered the ground, but it could not hide the depression made by the road as it cut its way through the landscape. Where the land swelled, the road might be as much as ten feet deep, and all but on the level with the surrounding terrain, but here it was a five-foot-deep gulf choked with snow snaking a white line through the Aurolani formation.

A slight breeze whipped pennants on lances and tugged at furs. Icy snow swirled up from the ground and rasped over helmets. Horses stamped and blew out great jets of steam, while across the battlefield frostclaws ducked their heads to groom white feathers on their breasts. The hoargoun slowly swayed from side to side with the breeze, like the mighty oaks from which they had formed their clubs.

Both sides stood ready, and Adrogans was content to wait. Since the Aurolani would be attacking uphill, he was happy to let them come. Maintaining the momentum of a charge was difficult that way, and once they stalled, his cavalry would charge. The Aurolani had chosen both the battlefield and their position on it poorly. He had no idea what they were waiting for, but unless they had the good sense to withdraw, few of them would be leaving the battlefield alive.

Then Adrogans saw it, above the city. It descended through the clouds as a fireball trailing a thick plume of white smoke. It slammed into the highest remaining tower and exploded there in a shower of flaming debris. A jet of fire shot straight up into the air, touching the low, grey clouds, and just for the barest hint of a second, he could feel heat radiating out.

The Aurolani host raised their voices as one, and their lines lurched forward.

That wasn’t just a signal to begin… That was the arrival of Nefrai-kesh. Adrogans narrowed his eyes. The Aurolani general had stationed himself in a city tower twelve miles distant, but with a clear view of the battlefield. He had decided to watch his troops, not lead them—for reasons that were beyond Adrogans. But the Jeranese general did not mind. I will give him something to watch.

Astride his horse, Adrogans turned to his signalman. “Blow an alert for the Savarese Knights and Matrave’s Horse.”

The man raised his brass horn to his lips and blew. First he played a call-song for the Savarese horsemen, then another for the mercenaries. After that he blew the alert signal and followed it, again, with their individual callsongs. Flags went up in each formation to acknowledge the order.

The sunken road caused more of a problem for the Aurolani than Adrogans had anticipated. The whole right wing was lagging and its westernmost elements had a weak connection to the center. While that wing was made up of heavy infantry, their formation was losing its front and spacing as it moved through the sunken road, leaving it vulnerable.

“Signalman, blow left wing advance.”

The man complied, and the left wing of Adrogans’ formation began to move forward. It consisted primarily of the Jeranese Mountain Guards, which was a heavy infantry regiment. As their reserves, Adrogans had the Svoin Irregulars, but he was very reluctant to use them in combat. They needed seasoning, but this sort of battle was not the sort of place to get it.

The Aurolani host picked up the pace as it came uphill. They marched to the increasing beat of huge drums, and chanted loudly in tongues and cadences that sounded blasphemous. Adrogans could feel Pain sinking her claws into his breast as she clung to him from behind, but he ignored her. There would be enough pain for her to feast on soon enough, and he had no need of the special vision she would grant.

With the increase in speed came the increased dislocation and disruption of the Aurolani east wing. Adrogans signaled, and the readied cavalry units charged. Snow flew as hooves pounded down the road, and horses slammed full on into the infantry.

What had been pristine snow was now churned crimson, alive with twitching bodies writhing around broken lances. Horses, with their backs broken from a blow with a hoargoun’s club, thrashed their hooves in the snow. The rime giants, skewered by dozens of lances, faltered and fell, some pitching over into the road, others stumbling back and crushing gibberers underfoot.

Kryalniri and vylaens cast spells, but Phfas and his Zhusk compatriots used the power of the yrvtn to blunt most of these. The small contingent of Vilwanese warmages he’d been given shot their own spells. They specifically targeted the Aurolani magickers, forcing them to choose between self-defense and death. A surprising number chose the second option. Even as they died, they cast hideous fireballs that incinerated cavalrymen, or punched holes in the infantry line.

Gyrkyme laced the Aurolani formation with fire. Their swooping attacks released dozens of firecocks, which exploded against Aurolani troops or the ground. Three of them hit one hoargoun at the heart of the Aurolani center, turning him into a living torch. In his pain he crushed comrades, and his screams were enough to chill the blood of all who heard. Other firecocks wrought havoc amid the frostclaws. They killed some, and unnerved others enough that a panic swept through the Aurolani cavalry.

Cheers ran through Adrogans’ troops as the Aurolani formation began to crumble. Their left had hit and held, such that the Aurolani center came forward. Its support, the east wing, had been shorn free, leaving the flank open for a crushing charge from the Alcidese or Jeranese Horse Guards. A textbook example of how a battle should be fought, things were going too well for Adrogans for him to be comfortable.

Then he saw it.

The burning hoargoun had been cavorting and spinning, but never trying to slap out the flames that engulfed it. Instead its thick fingers tore at the harness it wore. It was attached to a satchel of heavy canvas, not unlike those troops wore to carry supplies. Save no one wears one of those into combat. On a creature the size of the hoargoun, the satchel could have contained three bullocks, and it certainly bulged with whatever its cargo was.

Adrogans watched it for a moment more, and felt Pain sink her fangs into the back of his neck. He pointed at the hoargoun and shouted at Phfas, but it was too late.

The hoargoun’s pack exploded.

The creature wearing the device literally became a crimson mist from the thighs upward. Fire blossomed for a second where its chest had been, then a thunderous blast rippled over the landscape, knocking warriors down, making snow dance, and even shattering ice over the river. A lethal spray of missiles shot out in every direction.

Gyrkyme were shredded, spiraling down with bloody feathers floating in their wake. Some of the Savarese Knights had swept around to the rear of the Aurolani center, catching the blast full force. Round lead balls and jagged pieces of bent iron punched through their armor. Sharp fragments of crockery sliced exposed flesh and the force of the blast itself was enough to send horses and riders tumbling.

But as much damage as the explosion did to the Savarese Knights, it did more to the Aurolani troops. It ate the middle out of their formation. Those it had not killed it wounded, and all the infantry had been knocked down. They struggled to their feet, dazed and disoriented, with many of them turning back to see what had happened.

Which is when Adrogans’ troops hit them. There had been no charge blown nor any signal given. One of the balls had crushed the signal horn and the hand holding it, but these men needed no signal to know when to fight. They had been shocked and some hurt by the blast, but all of them had their blood up, and the enemy became the focus for their fury.

Fighting to steady his horse, Adrogans swiped at blood dripping into his right eye. Something had hit him, opening a cut, but the pain of it was nothing compared to the pure waves of agony his yrun played into him. It swirled through him like a twisting column of fire, so he took hold of it, channeled it, then cast his gaze out over the battlefield.

There, on his left, another hoargoun was struggling with a pack. That creature was not burning, but a thin trickle of smoke rose from the corner of the burden it raised over its head. The creature’s arms went back, preparing for a long throw that would plant the device deep in amid the Mountain Guards.

Adrogans stabbed his left hand at the hoargoun and let pain flow. He let pure agony wrack the hoargoun, locking its muscles and bowing its back. The satchel sank lower, then the creature toppled backward. It hit the ground in a cloud of snow, and the satchel bounced once before it exploded.

With that explosion, the Aurolani left wing evaporated.

So did the fire atop the tower in far Svarskya.

One of the other hoargoun, one that fell in the initial charge, had been fitted with one of the explosive devices. Someone decided it should be called a boombag, and for want of a better term, it stuck. Vilwanese mages and several weapons-masters hauled it off to a small hollow and opened it. Inside they found a cask of firedirt with a long fuse surrounded by shot, metal, and ceramic debris. It appeared the device was meant to be used as the second hoargoun had attempted to use it, though one warmage did note that the harness was not really conducive to easy removal.

Could Nefrai-kesh have meant the hoargoun to commit suicide? He looked north to the city. Lights burned, from the towers and broken walls, out to the city warrens that surrounded the inner, older city. Is he telling me that we will face such things every step of the way?

That prospect shook Adrogans for a moment.

Phfas came to stand beside him and look at Svarskya. “You take this as a warning, yes?”

“Is there another interpretation, Uncle?”

The wizened man nodded. “The dog that does not want to right barks louder than the one that does.”

Adrogans considered that for a moment, then nodded. “Even if those devices had worked, not enough damage would have been done to allow his troops to win. And if he had meant to use the boombags to win, he would have employed them against the bridge garrison. You’re right; there is some other game being played here, and I don’t know what it is.”

The Zhusk shaman snorted. “He is foolish, if he plays games when we are making war.”

“Yes, but perhaps he has a grander prize in mind.”

“Will that stop you from winning yours?”

Adrogans smiled and rested his right hand on Phfas’ shoulder. “No, but if I knew what his prize was, we might be able to win that as well.”

“Excuse me, General, we have a report about the battle we are prepared to send to Lakaslin by arcanslata!” The signal-mage gave Adrogans a piece of parchment, then cast a spell to make a light so he could read it. ”Is it satisfactory, sir?“

The Jeranese general nodded slowly. “This will do for my private archives. Delete any reference to boombags and give all credit for the victory here to the troops on the field, not the devastation done by those things.”

“But, sir, warning others of the devices…”

“I know, but they failed here, so perhaps they won’t be used again.” Adrogans gave the man a nod. “If we let others back home fear things they might never see, we contribute to the Aurolani effort. I won’t aid the enemy that way.”

“Yes, sir.” The signal-mage bowed and withdrew.

Phfas smiled. “You see a glimmer of his prize?”

“Not really, but we both agree Nefrai-kesh was sending a message. I’ve just decided his message was meant for me alone.” He scratched at the stitched cut over his right eye. “As such, it is unimportant to anyone else, but a message I shall take to heart.”