When Dragons Rage

62

Svarskya lay before Adrogans, broken and old. Houses sagged. Towers had collapsed, crushing buildings and raising stone scars across the landscape. The outer city had once been beautiful, and the walls surrounding it almost ornamental. Those walls remained largely ornamental, having been long since overgrown and covered with snow. So many gaps had been worn in the outer ring that one could not easily follow its line with the eye. It would have been simple to mistake it for hillocks.

Nothing moved in the outer city. That, Adrogans reminded himself, did not mean nothing waited there. The sprawl stood a half mile thick at its narrowest point, and quadruple that at its widest. In the quarter century since its conquest, the streets had shifted as new buildings were raised and old were razed, but the various routes to the old city were still obvious.

The old inner city, which had grown around the docks, still boasted towers and tall walls. Prince Kirill’s evacuation of the city had let the Aurolani take it without requiring its destruction. Consequently, Adrogans could easily imagine its splendor in the previous era, but he doubted he would ever see it look so grand again.

General Caro rode up. “We are ready to go when you are, General.”

Adrogans snorted. “We might well wait forever then, for I do not know if I will ever be ready.” He glanced up at Nefrai-kesh’s tower, where flickers of flame flashed from windows with a certain regularity. “What are you thinking?”

Phfas laughed harshly. “A question you should put to him when your sword is at his throat.”

“If we can get that far, Uncle.” Adrogans’ constant companion, Pain, offered him nothing. She did not cling to him or claw him, but merely rested against his back as if she were a tired child given to his care, not the embodiment of physical torment. With combat looming, she should have been at her most fierce, anxious for the orgy of agonies.

The potential slaughter had Adrogans’ mind racing. Any of the snow-covered hovels could have been packed with firedirt. If he sent tight formations into the city, an explosion would kill hundreds. If he spread them out to forestall that from happening, concentrated Aurolani forces would overwhelm his thin lines and slaughter his warriors. And if he has enough firedirt to make all those hovels explode, my entire army will die.

On the one hand, the Aurolani hardly needed to defend the outer city since the walls of the inner city still held. Adrogans’ swift advance had outstripped the chance of any siege machinery being brought up. And while the outer city would yield enough lumber and rock to build such things, that would take time. Since the Aurolani could be resupplied by sea, time worked in their favor.

It could have been that Nefrai-kesh desired nothing more sinister than buying time. The problem Adrogans had with that was that Nefrai-kesh could have bought a lot more time by the proper use of troops in previous battles. If he had strongly garrisoned the Svar Bridge, taking it would have won time and chewed up a lot of Adrogans’ troops. And if boombags had been used there, there would be no counting the cost. Come spring, he could have crushed what was left of my forces.

There were many contingencies for which Adrogans could not account. While arcanslata reports did keep him informed in general terms about the eastern front, he had no true sense of how many of Chytrine’s troops were being diverted there. It was quite possible that Nefrai-kesh would not be reinforced. In fact, it could have been that his troops were being drawn away to be used in Muroso. The conquest of Sebcia could have hurt Chytrine much more than anyone knew.

He looked over at Caro. “Does his giving us the outer city make any sense to you?”

The Alcidese commander shook his head, then tipped his helmet back. “All the discussions we have had have failed to explain his reasoning. My greatest fear is that he wants us in the city because it cuts down our ability to maneuver and he can infiltrate troops among us. Worse, if we are drawn into certain lines of attack and he is able to bring a dragon to his side, we are undone.”

Adrogans nodded. “But after the last dragon was slain at Fortress Draconis, Chytrine has not used one. Her control may not be good, or there may be few she can control with as little of the Crown as she has. If one were to be employed against us, though, it would have been used at the bridge or the Three Brothers. Still, you have a point. If we see one, we must push our forces into the Aurolani forces and make it hesitate.“

Phfas cackled. “He did not hesitate with boombags.”

Caro winced. “A good point. Nefrai-kesh seems fairly intent on killing us by whatever means.”

“I would accept that but…” Adrogans gestured boldly at the outer city. “There is not so much as a flag flying outside the inner city walls.”

“I like the paradox no more than you do. It suggests he has a surprise in store.”

“The only surprises I like in combat are the ones I create.” Adrogans sighed. He glanced right at the new bugler. “Signalman, general advance.”

The horn sounded and the army of liberation started forward. Adrogans had arrayed it in a wide line. He had his infantry set up in ranks five deep, which meant they had a greater frontage than normal. The Svoin Irregulars actually ranged out in front of the professional soldiers. They moved in a ragged line, clearly eager to enter the capital.

Behind the infantry came the cavalry, and it maintained its tighter formations. When Nefrai-kesh sprang his trap, Adrogans wanted to be able to hit hard with a mobile force. The cavalry oriented on the larger roads, and Adrogans assumed that if there were going to be boom traps, those would be the most likely spots for them. That’s where he would put them were he defending the city, so Adrogans had to hope the infantry screen could locate and destroy any traps before the cavalry would ride into the city.

Everyone moved forward smoothly. Adrogans noted no alarm or extra activity on the inner city walls. Banners fluttered and sentries marched. If they saw anything, or heard the bugle call, they gave no sign. A few spectators did appear on the walls to watch the advance, but they appeared calm.

The Irregulars entered the city. As they had been ordered, they slipped into buildings and moved through them, hunting for anything out of the ordinary. The Svoin survivors had spent so much time lurking in the warrens and byways of a dead city that Adrogans knew they would feel right at home. They crept through it like mildew growing up a wall and signaled back as they cleared each block.

His infantry moved in next and secured roads. Squads searched for signs of traps, but Adrogans didn’t see anyone deploying the red flags that would indicate danger.

Then, as the cavalry reached the outer walls he saw it. A figure in black, a small man, came walking up the street from the inner city. His cloak flowed out after him as if made from forty yards of diaphanous black silk. Little pieces of it seemed to snap in a breeze that did not exist.

The figure stopped, then bowed, and the cloak shifted from black to white.

“Tricks to amuse children.”

Adrogans smiled at Phfas. “A sign of a truce. Nefrai-kesh offered the same at Svoin.”

“That is not Nefrai-kesh.”

“No, but it is his herald.” Adrogans glanced at Caro. “Care to ride with me once again, General?”

“Of course, my friend.”

Phfas made it a trio. They rode down into the city and nodded to the troops who had entered it. Warhawks flew above them and landed on the roofs of buildings near the large intersection where the herald stood. Adrogans waited to feel the breeze that was making the white cape flow, but it never touched him even as he drew close.

The figure sketched a bow. He wore a black mask, and the flesh beneath it had a corpselike pallor. His eyes, however, remained alive. They literally burned, with flames licking up from the sockets. He clasped his gloved hands before him, appearing more a solicitous tavernkeeper than a creature of power.

“I shall boast, my father is your host; in the tower he resides. He wishes you no harm, no undue alarm, until the morrow’s battle tides.”

Adrogans nodded. “You are Nefrai-laysh. You’re the Norrington’s father.”

“‘Tis a mistake you make, my role to take, and give that gutter whelp. When all is done, and we have won, he will have been no help.” As the sullanciri spat out his verse, sparks flew. “Speak not of that son, for he is but one and nowhere near. But here we are, in Okrannel’s star, let us make things clear.”

The sullanciri opened his arms to take in the whole of the outer city. “We have laid in for thee, a feast, you will see. Wine, bread, and meat, enough to eat. Warm houses to keep, tonight you will sleep. Spend a safe night, rise to the fight. Tomorrow you die, widows cry, soldiers bled, join the dead.”

The Jeranese general frowned. “That’s it, then. Your father sent you to tell us he will feed us then kill us? We have a night of peace before slaughter?”

“What you have heard is entirely his word. Here you will dwell. He wishes you well. Without fail, on epic scale, tomorrow forces flail, but tonight peace and torment surcease.”

Phfas snorted. “Words and games.”

Will things be poisoned? Does he want my troops drunk and sick? Adrogans glanced up and beyond Nefrai-laysh to the tower in which his opponent dwelt. Nefrai-kesh appeared in a window and gave Adrogans a salute.

Pain remained quiescent and asleep at his back.

Adrogans nodded. “We will accept this hospitality. Thank your father.”

“From your mouth to his ear, have no fear.” The diminutive sullanciri smiled easily. He waved a hand and his cloak wrapped tight around him, then exploded into a hail of snowflakes. They spun up into a funnel, then danced back to the inner city and disappeared, carrying Nefrai-laysh.

Caro had a concerned expression on his face. “You can’t actually mean to eat their food and drink their wine.”

“I don’t fear poison. Nefrai-kesh is trying to do the honorable thing, and I will accept that. I think the reason he’s trying to be honorable, however, is because tomorrow he won’t be.” Adrogans sighed. “And that, my friends, is what I fear unto death.”