DragonCrown Saga - The Grand Crusade Part 7

"Begging your pardon, Master Phfas, but themeckanshuknow the secret of making firedirt. They crewed the dragonels at Fortress Draconis, but the Draconis Baron had teams of us learn how to use them. If Chytrine could make themeckanshumagick fail, the dragonels would be useless, so he had backup crews ready."

"Proceed, Captain."

The Alcidese officer waved a hand and the quartet of men in the pit began to work. "Parsus has that bag of firedirt there. It's enough for one charge. We use a bag and fill it with a wooden scoop because metal might spark, and we don't want sparks. He pours it in, then Nerus compacts it with that ram. Ebrius, he's got the iron ball there, and Ca.s.sus is wrapping it in cloth to make sure the fit is good and tight. Nerus rams it home and the dragonel has a full belly."

Adrogans watched the men work and saw no traces of fear. He'd seen the destruction firedirt could cause when the Aurolani forces had used boombags against his troops. The bag was little more than a lot of firedirt and metal shrapnel. It literally shredded men and horses, with the force of-the blast enough to knock people down even if they were unhurt. Had the Aurolani employed them to keep him out of the city, they would have ripped his army to pieces.

They had not, however, and Adrogans was fairly certain why. A quarter century earlier, Chytrine had introduced dragonels at the siege of Fortress Draconis. The Draconis Baron had taken possession of the only existing weapon and a meager supply of firedirt. He had managed to duplicate the dragonel and firedirt, as well as innovate a number of other weapons. He then manufactured them and used them to make Fortress Draconis una.s.sailable.

At least, una.s.sailable until Chytrine returned with more dragonels and other weapons that shattered it.

The Draconis Baron had steadfastly refused to share the secrets of dragonels and firedirt with the nations of the south. Adrogans had even heard rumors that he had sent a.s.sa.s.sins out to deal with those inventors who had succeeded in duplicating firedirt. While Adrogans a.s.sumed those rumors to be false, he did not doubt the Draconis Baron would have gone to such lengths to keep the weapon secret. While dragonels might have stopped Chytrine in Sebcia or Muroso, had the secret been freely known, the south would have dissolved into a series of wars that would have been even more ruinous than Chytrine's campaign.

Agitare pointed to the pit again. "The firedirt used in the dragonel's belly is of a fairly large grain, but the firedirt Parsus is using now to prime the touchhole is much more fine. It will burn more quickly and ignite the larger grains. They will burn slowly and build up great power, which is what will hurl the ball to the tar-get."

"Very good." Adrogans looked left to a soldier carrying a big red flag. "Signalman, give the sign to the city."

The man waved the flag briskly, and down in the city, atop one of many snow-covered hovels, another red flag waved back. The man waving it stopped quickly enough, then slid down the roof and got well away from where he had been standing.

The Jeranese general smiled. "It seems, Captain, that your target is clear. Please, continue the demonstration."

Agitare again saluted, then entered the pit and plucked a small torch from " hole in one of the posts. He bent over, sighted down the length of the dragonel's thick bra.s.s barrel, then brought the flame to the touchhole. In an instant a plume of thick grey-white smoke shot up into the air, and for a heartbeat Adrogans did not think a dragonel was very impressive at all.

Then the weapon roared and spat out a huge gout of flame that illuminated the heart of a jet of smoke.

The very ground shook, and the thunder started his ears ringing. A swirl of smoke drifted back to sting his eyes, but even nascent tears couldn't prevent him from seeing a black speck as it flew through the sky. It arced down and smashed into a roof, billowing snow into a cloud and sending up a spray of broken red tiles. A heartbeat later the roof sagged, then collapsed inward and part of the building's outer walls crumbled.

He tugged at his ears in a vain attempt to stop them from ringing as smoke dissipated and snow drifted back down over the ruined building. Brilliant tactician though he was, he knew anyone who had seen what one small ball had accomplished could calculate the destructive force now at his command. Ten or twenty of the dragonels would be enough to batter down any wall. While the b.a.l.l.s would not be the most effective against ma.s.sed troops, filling a dragonel with smaller shot or stones or jagged metal would rip them to pieces as the boombags had.

So, this is what the Draconis Baron saw.

Turpus Caro's normally florid face had lost some of its color. "It is smaller Vian a siege engine, easier to move, and far more powerful. As long as there is firedirt and shot, it is formidable. And the effort to employ it..."

"Yes, a few men, quickly trained, can do a lot of damage."

The Loquelf closed her eyes. "Even after we slay Chytrine, this will be her legacy- It will destroy the world."

Adrogans frowned. "There are many ways the world could be destroyed, and this is but one of them.

Chytrine is still the greatest threat, and we must concentrate on her. Besides, we know how the dragonel works, but as General Caro implied, without firedirt, it is useless. Captain Agitare, what is the supply of firedirt?"

The young man stopped several steps below the hilltop and looked up. "There is not much in the storehouse where we got this lot, but there is brimstone, charcoal, and saltpeter stored there. You could smell the brimstone in the smoke, couldn't you? We know it is a mixture of all three, but we are working on the proportions. After that it needs to be moistened, then dried, and we are working on that, too."

"Good. How much shot and how much firedirt will you have when you get the formulation correct?"

"For shot, as much as we want. You can feed them almost anything and it will work, though round iron b.a.l.l.s still work best. There are not that many left behind, but the molds were recovered from the s.h.i.+p.

We have twenty dragonels. At current supply levels, we could have enough firedirt for fifty shots each, though that will take a lot of transporting."

"Thank you, Captain. Round up everyone who has had experience at Fortress Draconis and form them into a dragonel corps. Keep me informed on the production of firedirt."

"Yes, General." Agitare hesitated. "If I might make a suggestion, sir?"

"Yes, Captain?"

Agitare pointed to the crew on the dragonel. "They're all part of the Wolves, sir. I would like to make the Wolves over into your dragonel corps. They're all trained and smart and sworn to Princess Alexia.

You cantrustthem, sir."

Trust them. Adrogans ran a hand over his chin. It pleased him to see that Agitare recognized the great responsibility he was being given. Letting an Alcidese unit sworn to the service of Princess Alexia hold the secret of firedirt would go a long way to quell anxieties about what he might do with those dragonels.

"Very good, Captain. The Wolves will be my dragonel corps. Carry on." He saluted and dismissed Agitare, then turned to the others. "Shall we inspect the damage?"

Four men advanced to take up Beal mot Tsuvo's litter. Snow crunched beneath boots as the small procession worked its way into the outskirts of the city Alexia had an abiding hatred for politics, but had to concede that it proved useful at times. As predicted, Alcidese supply s.h.i.+ps arrived a day after they'd been sent for. Alcidese troops also arrived at the same time: the Alcidese Throne Guards, the Queen's Light Horse, and the Alcidese Iron Horse. As they disembarked, trumpets sounded and blue banners unfurled, making for a display that swelled hearts and even rekindled lost hope.

The grandeur of the troops arriving was not lost on anyone, especially since the two thousand were being supplemented by another three thousand marching up the coast road. Kings and queens were quick to make sure their contributions to the fight would seem no shabbier, either in numbers or appearance. Jerana's contribution came first, with two infantry regiments and two battalions of light horse. Other leaders scrambled to get their troops moving, or hired mercenaries and formed ersatz Foreign Legions right there in Narriz.

The scramble to produce troops and supplies became one of three sports that kept the politicians occupied. The second was the hunt for the truth concerning Adrogans and dragonels. The Jeranese general's request for clarification of the message sent had been seen as a ruse at the start, but then General Caro sent a message stating unequivocally that Adrogans did not have dragonels. Alyx knew he did, and could hardly imagine Caro lying to his king, or being induced to lie, so there clearly was some trickery involved. Everyone else in the town either thought Adrogans was lying or telling the truth. As a result, a lot of words were wasted in heated arguments backed by no information at all.

The third game had all but been eclipsed by the first two, and that was the production of new Norringtons. While there was still some effort being made to promote new candidates to fulfill the prophecy, the latter part of Will's legacy fit so well with the need to create military units that things got melded together. Just as Will had led the Freemen, new Norrington candidates became the core of companies and legions.

Curiously, only Scrainwood held his Norrington back. He'd sent for Bosleigh Norrington's second son by Nolda Disper. Whereas her first son, Kenleigh, did appear to be a Norrington, the second, Redgrave, did not. One look at him left no question that he was his mother's son, with her blue eyes, white-blonde hair, and willowy form. His face, however, had a pinched quality to it, and the light of intelligence burned dully in his eyes. She'd only seen him once and found the youth apparently in awe of how a b.u.t.ton fit through a b.u.t.tonhole.

That Scrainwood didn't advance his candidate loudly caused Alexia some anxiety. That show of restraint, as well as his behavior in the Council, made her very uneasy. He was planning something, and she knew she'd not like it, but exactly what he was planning she could not imagine.

That it would make trouble for Crow and the world, however, she was certain. Therefore, she was determined whatever he was scheming would not come to pa.s.s.

She looked up from the pages of Crow's memoirs and over at the man scribbling away at a desk near the window. "Do you really think describing Scrainwood's eyes as being 'tight set together' is wise?"

Crow set his quill down and smiled at her. "I would omit him if I could, but I cannot, so the truth will have to suffice."

Alyx set the pages down on the bed, then slid off it and crossed to where he sat. She stroked his white mane. "Leigh really was like your brother, wasn't he?" The man nodded heavily. "He was. I had a responsibility to him and wasn't able to acquit it. You'll see, as I write, how brave he was."

"I'm certain. Resolute has not changed at all."

"He's just gotten deadlier." Crow looked up and smiled at her. "All this was so long ago, and yet setting it down brings it all back. I've not thought on some of these things or these people in a long time. Far too long."

"Or, in the case of Scrainwood, far toooften''Alyx leaned over and kissed him. "Sometime, when this is all over, will you dance with me as you danced the night you all went off on your first adventure?"

"Gladly, my love." Crow slid his chair back and gathered her in his arms as he stood. "In fact, if I remember how the tune goes, I could hum it and we could practice."

She smiled, resting her hands on the soft doeskin of his tunic, but before she could answer there came a knocking at the door. Alexia gave him a quick kiss, then strode to the door and threw it open. "Yes?"

"This is where we'd find Crow?"

The man who spoke was the largest of the trio gathered at the door, and seemed larger still for being swathed in a heavy coat and a furred cape of rough manufacture. A furred hat he'd already removed, letting her see thick auburn hair shot with grey, and the evergreen hue of the woolen scarf wound round his neck matched his eyes.

Behind him stood a slightly smaller man, and one who was younger, too, but had red hair and shared enough facial features with the giant for her to image they were father and son. The third man, by far the smallest both in height and breadth of frame, wore clothes far more fas.h.i.+onable and decorated with bits of ribbon. He leaned on a stout walking stick.

All three of them wore masks and the markings proclaimed them to be Oriosans. Alyx feared for a second that Scrainwood might have sent them to kill Crow or steal his ma.n.u.script. Yet none of the men wore swords, and the long, thick, canvas-wrapped bundle slung over the youngest man's back hardly seemed a threat. Still, she'd have swung the door shut in their faces and gone for her sword, save for the gasp from Crow.

"Kedyn be praised." Crow's voice shrank as thickness in his throat choked off his words.

The large man nodded, then looked down, almost embarra.s.sed. "Been a long time, Hawkins."

"Yes, a long time." Crow left the table and thrust his hand at the giant. "I never thought I'd see you again, Naysmith Carver! Welcome; come in."

Nay took Crow's hand and shook it heartily, then the two men embraced, Crow almost disappearing in the other man's grasp. Alyx took a step back, still surprised, for the Naysmith Carver she knew came only from stories Crow had told and the pages of his memoirs. To her Nay was still a youth, not a man of years with a son.

Looking past the Carvers, she smiled at the third man. "Shall I a.s.sume you are Rounce Playfair?"

Rounce, whose brown hair had retained its color save for white side locks, limped forward and took her hand in his. "And you would be Princess Alexia of Okrannel." He kissed her hand. "An honor."

She bowed her head. "The honor is mine. I understand that over the last quarter century, you have provided Crow with a great deal of aid, no matter the threat to you."

The merchant shrugged as the younger Carver closed the door. "Fooling Scrainwood's agents was not difficult. Those who were not stupid were smart enough to understand the value of a bribe."

Nay released Crow and both men covertly swiped at tears. The larger man stepped aside, then grasped his son by the back of his neck and drew him forward. "This is Borell, the youngest. He's been a big help."

Crow shook hands with Borell, then introduced Alexia. Both of the Carvers mumbled greetings and started to genuflect, but she stopped them. It seemed to make them more uncomfortable when she began to gather chairs for them to sit; but she bled the tension off by sitting first, then bidding them to join her.

Crow smiled as he looked at Nay and Rounce. "How are you come here? 'tVhat have you been doing?

Tell me everything."

Rounce laughed and unb.u.t.toned his jacket. His left leg remained straight, and he leaned his cane against it. "I've given Resolute messages to pa.s.s along from time to time. Hasn't he... ?"

Nay snorted. "Would have been quicker to shout it into the wind than tell Resolute."

Crow laughed. "I'm sure Resolute intended to pa.s.s all your messages on to me, but was waiting for an appropriate moment. A moment of ease or peace, when home news would be welcome."

Alyx shot him a wry glance. "Is thereevera time with Resolute that would fit that description?"

"No, and apparently that is the problem." He smiled at her, then again looked at Nay. "Last I knew, you returned to Valsina with Leigh."

"Yes. He never got right in the head. He knew you saved him, and he loved you for it. But the loss of his father, your betraying the lot of them-that let him hate you. Scrainwood helped. Leigh took Nolda as his wife but wasn't home much. Wasn't 'til the queen's murder that he went full mad, though."

Nay glanced left toward his son. "Maud Lamburn, you remember her, she married me. Five children, four lived. Her sister May lives with us too. She married about the same time as Maud. Her husband ran off after a year. Left her with a child. Smithing was good enough to support us all. Borell has worked with metal since being a child and is very good."

Crow smiled. "I can see you have your mother's eyes."

"Thank you, sir." The man's voice came softly and clipped theyou.

The big man's bushy brows arrowed together. "Where's Tsamoc?"

"Your promise to him has been fulfilled. He kept me alive all these years and just a week past, he saved all of us at Vael. Leigh tried to bring a mountain down on us and the mightiest of the dragons. Tsamoc formed a great arch, holding the roof of their chamber up. He is more magnificent now than he was at the bridge, my friend."

The smith thought for a moment, then nodded. "You're without a sword again, are you, Hawkins?"

Crow laughed. "I am."

Nay looked at his son and nodded. Borell picked up the parcel he'd carried, and with a murmured "Beg pardon," hefted it onto the bed. As he began to undo the ties that bound it up tight, Nay began to speak.

"Before leaving Fortress Draconis, all the pieces of Temmer were gathered. The hilt came from you. No one wanted the other pieces, so they came back to Valsina. They got tucked away and there was no thinking on them for a while. Then the dreams started. Working away at the forge, someone would come up and say, 'It's time.' He'd pick a piece of the sword out and we'd set to working."

Nay's green eyes glittered as they focused distantly. "Just like that they'd L.

come. Odd lot, all, not sure why they were there. They'd just come, say it was time. There was no reforging Temmer. Failed more times than worth remembering. When they came, when they made their pick, they made a new blade around it. That worked."

Borell threw back the last tie, then unrolled the parcel. It contained four swords, with two hilts toward the head of the bed and two toward the foot. Each had a scabbard and the hilts differed, with one looking much older than the others. As Alyx looked at them, she felt a desire to draw one. Her hand started forward, but she stopped and caught Nay looking at her.

"Forgive me, Master smith."

"None needed. They're fated blades. Borell can explain best."

The young man glanced at his father and swallowed hard. His voice started small, but grew more confident as he hefted the first sword. "This was the first one. I weren't but five years old when the wizard from Muroso comes to find my father.Hull, his name was. They made this sword. Itsname is Heart."

He set Heart down and picked up another, the one with the oldest hilt. "This one came next. It's got Temmer's hilt. It was an elf helped make this one, an old elf who called himself Magarric. He said its name isAlarien, which I guess means 'hand' in Elfspeak."

Crow nodded. "It means strong hand and protector. It's a grand t.i.tle among elves."

"And this is a grand blade." Borell smiled as he set it back down. "I watched as they made it, with all the sparks and magick. I got to help on the next one, when the urZrethi came to do his dream-bidding. He was called Bok."

Alexia stiffed. "Bok? He's green and furry?"

Nay nodded. "Very gentle and a mage of the first order."

"Bok?" She glanced at Crow, then at Nay. "He didn't have a red-robed mage with him, did he?"

"He came all alone."

Borell nodded in agreement. "He didn't say too much, but spoke proper. I had to gather special wood to burn for the forging, and other for making the hilt. I carved the pieces myself. He called this one Crown."

The next sword he lifted differed from the others in that it was a bit longer and decidedly thinner. "This one is Eye. I had the same dream my father did five years ago. A woman mage named Arimtara came that time." Borell fell silent and blushed.

"The boy was sweet on her." Nay's voice carried with it the indulgence of a father for a son's youthful crush. "Something odd about her, though. Strong as she was beautiful. Could have done the forging with her magick alone save that she said Borell had to help. He did. They made Eye."

Borell laid that blade down, then flipped open a small pocket that had been sewn into the canvas parcel.

From it he drew a small, dagger-shaped amulet on a silver chain. "After the swords there was only one little piece left. Another woman came, an old woman, must have been three years past. She was from Vilwan and helped shape this. She called it Spirit and said it wasn't much of a sword, but she wasn't much of a mage, so it would have to do."

Rounce s.h.i.+fted in his chair. "Orla was the only one of these mages I happened to meet. I liked her, and was saddened to hear of her death."

Crow nodded. "She was very special, and underestimated herself if she didn't think she was much of a mage."

The merchant sat forward and ma.s.saged his left knee. "Just over a month ago I learned you were in Meredo. I tried to convince Nay that we needed to go and help you, bring you these swords, but he refused."

Nay shrugged. "Wasn't time. Three weeks ago a dream came. You said about Tsamoc and the arch.