The Black Wing (25 page)

“Fortunately,” continued Horak, “kapak respond well to orders from humans. They'll even
listen to the more intelligent of the baaz. Their hand-to-hand skills are matchless in
combination with the venom of their saliva.” Maldeev rocked back on his heels, arms
crossed tightly before him. “Very impressive,” he breathed.

“You should see the newest draconians,” Horak said abruptly, his tone conversational. “The
gold auraks have magical abilities that rival a dragon's. They can't fly, but their
intelligence more than makes up for that. ”And the sivaks ...“ He whistled. ”Their skills
are boundless! Their silver wings spread in flight are a sight to behold! As strong as
giants, perhaps, they can shapechange at will. In fact, when someone does manage to slay
them, they automatically change into the form of their slayer for three days, then burst
into flames and destroy all around them. Wonderful effect!"

Horak sighed wistfully. “Dragon Highlord Ariakas just received five hundred of each. What
I wouldn't do to earn command of some of them one day....” The tips of Maldeev's ears
burned red. He was receiving Ariakas's rejects! His moment of triumph had dissolved into
degradation. “When can I expect my allotment of auraks and sivaks to replace these
wretched abominations?” he asked through gritted teeth. Horak seemed at last to sense his
error. “Sir, baaz and kapaks are still far superior to humans in sheer physical strength
and fighting ability. They have served Highlord Ari- akas well. With their help, the Black
Wing will surely rise in status and”

“Ariakas has arranged it so that he still has the greatest fighting force, while the rest
of us struggle along, looking like pathetic imitations of highlords in his shadow!”
Maldeev slammed one gloved fist into the other. “Well, I will not accept his charity, or
his rejects!”

Jahet stooped slightly to squeeze her highlord's shoulder in a possessive gesture that
suggested caution. The very last thing Maldeev needed now was to appear unhinged before a
newly reassigned commander. The dragon closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief when
she saw Maldeev struggle to regain his composure and shake off any outward signs of rage.

“You're right, Horak,” said Maldeev smoothly. “We'll use these draconians to fight for the
Queen of Darkness. With them, the Black Wing will surpass even Ariakas's perfor- mance in
the upcoming war!” “Yes, sir.” Horak was knocked a bit off balance by Maldeev's extremes
of behavior, but recovered quickly. “My troops and I are fatigued from the march from
Neraka. Where will we be quartered?”

Maldeev hastily gave directions to his adjutant to place the commander's and his human
officers' belongings in quarters within the inner curtain, near his own high- ranking
soldiers. “As for the draconians,” said Maldeev, “we've made preparations for the
construction of tents.” The highlord drew an arc in the air with his finger to indicate
the area where Horak's troops now stood. "They'd better start building, if they wish to
rest anytime

soon.“ Horak gave a brief salute. ”Very well, sir,“ he said. The commander pulled on his
gelding's bit and headed off on foot to establish a camp for his troops. Jahet dismissed
Khisanth, who was not unhappy to take wing for the warrens. Watching the other dragon in
flight, Jahet herself turned to leave. ”I'd better get started on my recruitment of
dragons,“ she said to Maldeev. ”I am very pleased about Khisanth's turnaround,“ Maldeev
said, almost to stop Jahet from leaving. ”If s good news, but I predicted it would
happen.“ ”You don't sound as pleased as I would expect,“ observed Maldeev. ”Don't you
trust her motives?“ High above Maldeev's head, Jahet's wings shrugged, but her eyes were
contemplative. ”No more or less than ever. She's a black dragon.“ Jahet's eyes narrowed
slightly. ”But she is different. Somethingthe battle, perhapshas changed her." It didn't
settle Jahet's concerns to see the look of undisguised admiration in her highlord's eyes
as they both watched Khisanth's dark form in flight against the backdrop of deep green
pines.

Sighting the overwhelming urge to nap, Khisanth absently picked with a sharpened talon at
a shred of carrion lodged between a knifelike incisor and her black-spotted gums. The
newly promoted second-in-command dragon of the Black Wing was squeezed into the meager
late-afternoon shade of a lone oak tree on the crest of a bluff in the mountains southwest
of their destination: Lamesh Castle. Even during years of endless drill and preparation
for battle, Khisanth had not realized how truly tedious war could be.

It isn't a war, yet, Khisanth reminded herself. The Black Wing was preparing to launch an
isolated offensive against the Knights of Solamnia who had, just months before, brought
the fledgling wing to its knees. For nearly four days, the dragon had been flying as an
advance scout for the northbound army.

The assignment had proven to be a tedious exercise: fly north for a half hour, wait for a
half day for the plodding dra-conians to bring up the rear, fly north for another half
hour. It frustrated Khisanth that, unfettered by the army, she could have flown the
distance from Shalimsha to Lamesh in less than three hours.

The second-ranked dragon of the Black Wing knew exactly how far it was to Lamesh, because
she'd been flying reconnaissance there every other day since Khoal's death. Her
shapechanging ability was no longer a secret after her battle with the ancient dragon, so
Khisanth used it freely on her missions for the wing. Her form of choice was a big black
raven, which allowed her to fly directly into the Solamnic compound and closely monitor
the rebuilding of its forces.

The decision to retaliate against the knights at Lamesh had been made months before, when
Khisanth was able to consistently report that the knights had not regrouped to any
significant extent. They appeared to have replaced very few of the patrician

warriors, and acquired, at best, seventy-five mercenaries. That low number was consistent
with the Black Wing's own difficulties in recruiting many new sell-swords in the sparsely
populated, isolated region. All of this was fine with Khisanth. It meant there would be
fewer bodies to wade through when the time came for her revenge. The knight who had broken
her nose at Needle Pass and then slipped from her clutches at Shalimsha would not escape
again. The dragon looked forward to the day when his sword and skull jangled on her
necklace with the rest of her trophies. Looking to the south with heavy-lidded eyes,
Khisanth realized that the wing had made more progress in the last hours than she'd
expected. They'd picked up the pace significantly after rounding the Hand of Chaos, a
sharp southern leg of this isolated section of the Khalkist Mountains. The procession was
perhaps a quarter league away, down the southern slope of the bluff upon which Khisanth
was perched. Jahet hovered just above the ground at the head of the impressive file of
troops. Airborne behind her, prodding troops along, were two newly recruited black
dragons. There were three dragons under the ranking black dragon's command now, due to
Jahet's active recruitment in the Great Moors. Khisanth had suggested that any uncommitted
black dragons would gravitate to that swamp upon awaking from the Sleep, as Khisanth
herself had. The two very young, “green” dragons, a male who called himself Lhode, and a
female known as Shadow, were a refreshing change from their predecessors. Lhode and Shadow
looked up to the older, seasoned dragons; the relationship came as near to kinship as
black dragons could. Unfortunately, they simply weren't as adept at flying and fighting as
those they had replaced. That would come with time and experience. The battle against the
Knights of Solamnia had brought another important change: the dragons were no longer an
autonomous division. The reorganization made good sense. Everyone knew Maldeev had divided
the dragons to prevent the concentration of power that had made the betrayal of Khoal,
Dnestr, and Neetra so possible and so devastating. Each dragon was now assigned to a
specific fighting unit, to provide the ground troops with focused air protection. Not
coincidentally, the leader of each unit was also the dragon's soul mate. As Dragon
Highlord Maldeev's mount, Jahet was to oversee the entire army. Lhode would control the
ogres with his ogre rider, Volg. Shadow and her rider and soul mate, Horak, were in
command of the draconians. As for Khisanth, her promotion had come at a price. She had all
but promised Maldeev to take his lieutenant as her rider, in exchange for allowing her to
fight this one battle unfettered. If she had not yet grown used to the idea of the very
logical union between equal counterparts, she had accepted its inevitability. Once her
scouting assignment was completed, Khisanth was to coordinate her efforts with Salah Khan
and the ranks of humans. The front ranks of the wing were now close enough for Khisanth to
clearly see Maldeev in gleaming plate mail, his horse, as well as those of his officers,
decked out in dress black-and-white skirts. Khisanth could see only flashes of the
highlord behind the waving folds of the Black Wing's banner, which he insisted on bearing
on the tip of his own pike. The commander's joy at being in the field again was evident in
his eyes through the holes in his horned helm. The wing's first offensive was obviously a
moment Highlord Maldeev had long awaited. Riding closely on his left flank was the
black-masked Salah Khan, newly promoted to dragon highmaster and second-in-command to
Maldeev himself. He had been Wakar's adjutant, having risen to his post after the former
second-in-command's death. A coldly efficient tactician, Khan was notorious for a temper
easily ignited by underlings. Most everyone was already intimidated by Khan's ever-present
black head wrapping; it was

rumored that the cloth covered a featureless face, destroyed long ago in a duel with a
wizard. Salah Khan was an introspective human whose long, pensive silences frequently
appeared to unnerve even Dragon Highlord Maldeev. Behind the leaders, the black dragon
could see the small number of horse-mounted calvary, to be used in the event of a rout.
Maldeev had made it clear he would take no prisoners. Behind them strode the remainder of
the human mercenaries, archers, and swordsmen. Next in line, Volg prodded his ogre troops
from behind, Lhode coaxing them along by air. Bringing up the rear were Horak's charges.
He led his draconian troops by horseback, using the Black Wing banner Maldeev had given
him as a focusing point for the dull-witted creatures, with Shadow hovering overhead.

The exact date for the attack had been set after the arrival of the draconian forces. The
monstrous reinforcements had visibly boosted the morale of the wing, at least those who
were not asked to live with the abominations. While they were an annoyance and an insult
to the dragons, it was the ogre troops who suffered the most from the nearly mindless
draconian killing machines. Certainly, no one had any love or sympathy for the brutish
ogres. Ironically, the draconians had replaced ogres as the most distasteful forms of life
in the army of the Dark Queen. Volg, the ogre's field commander, complained frequently in
his halting ogre accent, to Horak, the draconian field commander, but Horak seemed to
encourage competition between the units; neither did Volg receive help from their
immediate superior, army commander Salah Khan.

Drills for the entire army had become more frequent, specific, and intense. Humans, ogres,
and draconians all scaled ladders in preparation for a siege; arrows were made, and
weapons polished. The ogres protested loudly on the latter score, seeing no value in
expending energy on something that didn't make them fight any better.

Waiting now for the front rank of officers to close the gap, Khisanth nibbled a blade of
grass, much greener here than the drought-parched region around Lamesh. Angry- looking,
black-limned clouds were beginning to form in the western sky, suggesting rain. The hot
afternoon had already turned muggy.

Out of the corner of her eye, Khisanth saw Jahet flying toward her. Pulling back her
wings, the highlord's dragon dropped gracefully to her hind feet with nary a hop. “Maldeev
is considering launching an immediate attack.” Khisanth looked to the darkening sky and
arched a brow. “Is that wise?”

“Salah Khan and Volg are trying to talk him out of it.” With a sigh, Jahet settled herself
into the shade next to Khisanth. “If s quite comfortable here. While Lhode and Shadow and
I have been securing Shalimsha with just a handful of useless soldiers, you've had it
pretty easy these past days,” she said with mock jealousy.

“Easy? You mean boring,” growled Khisanth, struggling to her feet. “Let's go.” Standing
almost reluctantly, Jahet took wing mere heartbeats after Khisanth. The two of them made
an impressive sight, gliding effortlessly, enormous shadows skimming the land beneath. The
highlord had stopped the procession in a small gully on the spine of a neighboring bluff.
They dropped within a length of Maldeev. “We attack immediately, while there's still a
chance for surprise,” the dragon highlord was saying. “There is that school of thought,
Highlord,” Salah Khan said diplomatically. His voice was muffled by the black wrapping
around his head. “There are also those who believe that surprising the enemy at any cost
is unwise, particularly in a battle of this size, when we so outnumber the enemy. If this
were a small ambush, then, perhaps ...” “Ogres bushed,” Volg cut in rudely. He'd stomped
his way to the front ranks after the procession halted. Horak, too, had ridden up from his
position back with the draconians. Beads of sweat glistened on the brow of the newest of
Maldeev's officers, curling his copper hair into

tight ringlets. He'd heard Volg's comment and was twisting his red mustache confidently
when he said, “My draconians are ready to follow you instantly, Highlord. Unlike the
other, uh, soldiers,” he stumbled with a pointed look at Volg, “they need little sleep or
food.” Volg scowled. “Darkness come!” He pointed a warty finger to the east before adding
slyly, “Ogres see fine, but humans not.” “There's another very real problem, Sir,”
interrupted Khan, getting his first good look down the slope toward the citadel known as
Lamesh. “No one mentioned a moat.” His eyes, the only things visible in his face wrap,
suddenly narrowed with surprise and concern. “It would appear that the moat feeds a
waterfall over a cliff, as well. If 11 be much more difficult to breach than our plans
have allowed.” Maldeev looked with irritation at his number two dragon, the only one among
them to have seen Lamesh. “Well, Khi-santh? Didn't you notice these things?” “Yes,” she
said without guilt. “I reported that they were digging a trench at least two fortnights
ago. In itself a trench would not change the method of attack. However, the water is a new
development.” She gave Maldeev a wry look. “Perhaps they've been expecting us.” “We'll
wait until morning!” snapped the dragon highlord. Spurring his horse, Maldeev cantered off
and stopped a short distance away to gather his thoughts alone. Maldeev's advisors would
all have been surprised to learn that their highlord had actually made the decision to
delay the attack after Horak's pandering. Not that the highlord was immune to bootlicking.
Actually, it was one of his favorite benefits of rank. The problem was Horak. The very
capable human commander didn't know he was the least trusted of Maldeev's officers, even
placing behind the vulgar ogre, Volg, solely because he'd been under Ariakas's command.
Nourished by Horak himself on his first day at Lamesh, Maldeev's hatred of the Red Wing
commander had swelled, running so deep and silent, like the roots of a fast- growing
willow, that even Jahet could not guess its full measure. Maldeev would take Ariakas's
leavings and turn them to gold for the greater glory of himself. He was Takhisis's chosen.
Maldeev would seize every opportunity, take any chance, to align himself more closely with
the Queen of Darkness. “Orders, Highlord?” Khan cut into his thoughts. Maldeev shook away
his preoccupation and whistled for Jahet. “Tell your dragons to refrain from flying and
move on foot into the forest to the west. The rest of the wing will follow.” Jahet nodded
and backed away to do her highlord's bidding, pulling Khisanth along with a glance toward
Lhode and Shadow at the back of the ranks. Turning to the other commanders, Maldeev
continued. “In this battle, my greatest concern is to prevent any of the knights, their
men, or their people from escaping. We will certainly have lost all chance for surprise by
tomorrow morning. To stop escapes tonight, I want detachments to set up overlooking the
fortress and the town. Humans will watch while it's light, to be replaced by ogres and
draconians during darkness.” That settled, Maldeev lifted his pike and directed his horse
to pick its way down the bluff to the west, following after the dragons. Tate lowered the
spyglass from his eye. He knew the Black Wing would come to Lamesh Castle. The knight
hadn't been surprised by the news from the sentry. He'd just hoped it wouldn't be so soon.
It was too soon___The reinforcements Tate was expecting from Solamnia hadn't arrived yet.
Soon they might not need to, Tate thought grimly, feeling an unusual defeatism. The rain
wouldn't help matters, either. Standing on the southern battlements, the Knight of the
Crown snapped the glass back

up to his right eye. He wiped a raindrop from the cloudy lens. The view through it was not
much closer than seeing with the naked eye. Tate used the glass because it had been
Wolter's. He saw no dragons. He should be able to see the enormous black creatures, even
without the spyglass. Yet, Tate could identify only officers, a vast number of humans and
ogres, and then some other strange creatures for which Tate had no name. An attack didn't
appear to be imminent, since the black army was bivouacking.

Still, he would have little time to mount a defense. Tate slipped the brass cylinder into
a loop on his belt and then turned to leave. He stopped short, not quite sure where to go
first. Sir Wolter would have known. Tate rubbed his face wearily, glad his men were too
preoccupied assembling arms and equipment to notice his indecision.