The Dragons of Argonath (37 page)

Porteous was fighting to keep his composure under that merciless gaze. The eyes seemed to bore through one, to see into one's heart until all one's faults and weaknesses became quite visible and open.

"Ah, yes, the hero of Aubinas," the tall figure smiled sardonically "Welcome to my temporary abode."

"Honored to meet you, uh."

"You may call me Lapsor."

"Lapsor?"

"Yes."

"Honored." Glaves trembled, feeling that great intellect bearing down on him. It was as if he were an insect being put on a pin. Glaves had witnessed sorcery, but not at this proximity. For a brief, frightening moment he sensed the other's mind, all huge and greedy with a lust for knowledge and control, over everything! This greed was so hungry, so enormous that it terrified him. He shrank back from it and hid like a rabbit confronted with a leopard.

Glaves dropped his eyes like a bashful child.

What did it want from him? Why did it stare so hard?

The deep voice grew velvety. "And your mission, what is that to be?"

Glaves looked back stupidly. "My mission?" Faltus had been going on about this mission too. "What are you talking about?"

The guest known as Lapsor smiled for a moment.

"Come, great Porteous. We must light a beacon to arouse our forces. Give them something to fight for! A visible sign of the freedom we desire for Aubinas!"

"Yes, yes, but…"

"There can be no 'buts' Porteous. We who are chosen to lead must give our all for the cause."

"Well, if anyone's given to the cause, it's been me. I've lost everything."

"No man that still has his health and his body can say that. Come, Porteous, think of the cause!"

Salva Gann had said nothing. He was still staring, thunderstruck at the tall, powerful figure seated at the main desk. Gann's beliefs regarding the powers of sorcerers appeared to be undergoing some revision.

"Well, of course," Porteous said wearily. "I live for the cause."

"Yes. So if I were to aid you in that endeavor, you would approve, would you not?"

"Aid me?"

"Yes. I will give you the strength you need, and it is plain that your own reserves are low. You have given much during your years of troubles. The flames have burned down, your fires are banked, but not all is lost. I can reawaken your strength and your anger!"

Glaves felt more than ever like a rabbit in the presence of a rabbit-eating predator of inordinate speed and ferocity.

"Well, that sounds wonderful. I wonder…"

"Yes, of course, you agree." The figure arose and seemed to tower over them. It moved out from behind the desk toward Porteous, who wanted to run, but could not.

Lapsor had raised his hands, which were larger than those of a normal man, with very long fingers. He seemed to cradle Porteous Glaves's face in a mesh of these giant fingers, which elongated like huge pink worms and formed a basket surrounding Glaves's head.

The giant shuddered and moaned, and his face began to glow with a greenish fire. Then green light glowed softly within his hands and intensified momentarily until a white flash burst there for a moment and was gone. The giant withdrew.

Porteous Glaves slumped back, mouth slack, eyes vacant. A few horrified seconds went by, and then Glaves shook himself and seemed to come around. He sat up and looked at them, and his face was transformed. The lines of worry and concern were gone. His cheeks were hard, his eyes merciless. A sneer of arrogance and command had appeared in place of the rabbit-faced fear. The others looked at each other. Gann was shaking visibly. Faltus Wexenne raised an eyebrow.

So, Salva, it's all bunk, he wanted to say. You were going to show us how the tricks are done, eh?

Porteous said nothing, just stared about himself and sneered, his eyes empty of intelligence. Salva Gann still shook silently in his place. Wexenne smiled with barely concealed contempt. The huge figure of Lapsor had returned to its seat. It looked up after a moment and saw them staring at Glaves.

"Have no fear, my friends. He has not been harmed in any way. He has been, shall we say, invigorated."

Hearing this, Salva Gann made a silent recommendation to himself. As soon as he was able to, he was going to ride away from this place—and never return.

"And now," said Lapsor. "What is the news? What has happened on the battlefield?"

"Ah," Wexenne became a little crestfallen now. "We have undergone a reversal. The enemy has bamboozled our poorly trained troops in the scrub beyond our border with Lucule. Our men have fallen back to Posila."

"Fallen back, and so soon? How humiliating."

Wexenne shrugged and smiled. "We were perhaps a little overconfident before. Our forces are but recently mustered. They lack experience. Against good legion troops they are perhaps overmatched."

"Yes, perhaps." Lapsor sat back and rested his massive chin on tented fingertips.

"Well, that is why we need your aid, great Lapsor. You have other resources, do you not?"

"Mmmm, perhaps."

"Well, this might be a good time to think about using them. We need to regain the initiative, get our momentum back. We were driving on Marneri. Remember we achieved an historic victory last week right here in Nellin."

"True, we were all impressed."

"And now we've run up against something that has bedeviled other armies when facing legion forces."

"Discipline?"

"Well, there is that, but there are also dragons."

A glitter appeared in the eyes of the tall elf man. His jaw ground for a moment.

"Ah, yes, the famous fighting dragons of Argonath. I have heard much of these beasts. They have put in an appearance against you, at last?"

"They appear to have held off our heavy cavalry charge, which is our best weapon. I think it will be hard for our forces to hold a battle line if they come up against legion troops equipped with dragons."

"So you come to me, because you know I have bewks."

Wexenne nodded, quite submissively. Lapsor sat up and rubbed his huge hands together. "The bewks you shall have," he said with a slight smile. "However, I shall want some say in how they are to be used in any battle. I will not allow them to be wasted. I have only a few at the moment. They take time to generate. Later we will have as many as we might need, but it will take time to achieve that. So for now we must husband them carefully."

"Yes, of course," agreed, Faltus. "And casualties were high in that fighting down in Blue Stone, were they not?" Wexenne had waited for the right moment to launch that shaft. We have information too, great lord of the ancient elves!

The great face hardened, and the eyes burned slightly with green fire. Lapsor made no reference to the embarrassment in Blue Stone, however.

"This absurd empire of theirs has some surprising vulnerabilities. These witches for example, they are clearly the force behind the throne. We should strike at them immediately."

"Strike at the witches?" Wexenne felt a frisson of fear. Like most of his kind, he wanted nothing to do with the ancient hags. They were dangerous creatures. No one could be quite sure what to make of the stories told about them. By the breath, they might even be true! And that meant you had to be careful where witches were concerned.

"Yes," Lapsor spoke precisely.

Salva Gann wished he were somewhere else, anywhere else.

"This may not be so easy to do," said Wexenne.

"In Marneri I have followed the activities of one of these witches. She has the most interesting disguise. She wears grey rags, assumes a meek appearance with no hint of power or mystique. She could be a charwoman. And yet she wears a ring with a stone of power upon it, and her aura fairly pulses with hidden strength."

Wexenne swallowed. "That is the War Bird, the emperor's Storm Crow. They call her Lessis. She has a most evil reputation."

"Yes, I can imagine. A most active creature. I have followed her for several days, since she abruptly appeared in the city."

Wexenne was left to wonder how Lapsor could detect such things. Lapsor was here, under Deer Lodge. And yet he claimed to know what was happening in distant Marneri. Preposterous on the face of it, but this elf king was gifted with enormous powers.

A part of Wexenne wished he hadn't pressed Lapsor for his help. To beg for the attentions of the War Bird seemed a foolish move. That hag had many legends attached to her name. Her powers were considerable.

"We shall trap her," said Lapsor with gloating confidence. "Right here. I know just the right lure that will bring her unerringly to her doom."

"Here?" Wexenne's discomfort crept into his voice.

"Yes."

"Is that absolutely necessary?"

Lapsor snorted with amusement.

"Come, my friend, tell me this. If you do not fear to stand here in my presence, knowing as you do who I am, why in all the names of hell would you fear this silly old witch?"

Wexenne spread his hands helplessly.

"No, my friend," the great face twitched to friendliness. "Have no fear. I shall deal with this creature. Witches, shamans, mage-lords, I have met her ilk many, many times and ground all of them into the dust."

Salva Gann renewed his internal pledge to flee the moment it became possible.

"No mortal being can match my power."

"Ah, yes," agreed Wexenne, "of course." And let's just hope that you're right about that, great lord, else it'll be twenty-five years hard labor on the Guano Islands, he thought.

"I have a plan, so listen carefully."

"But what about Porteous?" said Wexenne. "He has a peculiar sneer on his face, but has said not a word since you, uh…"

"Invigorated him?"

"Yes, that."

"I thought it best that he not hear what you were about to tell me about your depressing lack of military success. I can awaken him at any moment. Would you care for me to do it now?"

"Ah, no. Hold off a little longer." Wexenne's mind was whirring. Salva Gann took another look at Glaves. Porteous was wide awake and looking about himself with eyes devoid of intelligence.

Lapsor resumed the recitation of his plan.

"There is a young person much loved by this witch. She visits her often. The witch herself is guarded, but this young person is not. We shall abduct her and remove her to these quarters. I need a young, but mature female subject to experiment on anyway. We shall leave a clue or two to draw the witch on, and when she comes we will destroy her."

"Why will she come?"

"Because this young woman is either her friend or perhaps her lover. Sometimes these ancient hags take very young women as lovers, did you not know that?"

Wexenne tried not to think about it.

"No, I hadn't, but of course it's possible."

"Whether lover or friend, the young woman is very important to the witch. She visits with her regularly. She does not provide any protection, however The young woman frequently walks the streets alone. Such foolishness can be exploited."

The Lord Lapsor favored them with a chilling smile.

In the woods just to the east of Posila, the 109th Marneri Dragons were camped out in rough shelters, thrown up from branches cut from the trees. A boil-up had produced some cauldrons of stirabout, and dragonboys had brought out emergency supplies of concentrated akh. It wasn't exactly filling, but it was something, and it would make it easier for exhausted dragons to sleep and wake refreshed.

Oddly the wyverns didn't complain much. They understood that in the chaos of a fight like this, marching for hours, fighting for a few minutes, then more marching, good eating was going to be rare.

While they settled to sleep, the air was full of the sounds of the cavalry reinforcements going by, three hundred riders from Talion moving at a trot under torchlight. A dozen supply wagons were also passing up the road with the creak of wooden wheels and the crack of drovers' whips. These sounds were encouraging. By morning there might be more than just a boil-up of stirabout to look forward to.

Commander Urmin stopped by to speak with the unit and to praise their efforts of the day.

"Our victory this morning was largely to your credit. You handled that cavalry thrust with great skill. You have earned another battle star for your illustrious reputation."

The dragons clacked their jaws in appreciation. By their lights Urmin had done a creditable job. He had taken a big risk, but a well-calculated one. By finding that track through the woods to the road, they had gotten a jump on the enemy, and that had been enough to knock his army to pieces.

"I wish I could say otherwise, but I'm afraid there's no beer tonight."

The dragons slumped a little in their places. They had not expected any, but to hear it put like that was depressing confirmation of their worst suspicions.

"But as soon as possible, I'm going to fund a good sing around the fire on some strong ale."

Now, that sounded better. Sleepy dragon heads perked up momentarily and a murmur of deep-throated appreciation went up. Urmin was visibly pleased by this when he stepped away. Then after a final word to Cuzo, he rode off with his escort of two troopers. Cuzo was left beaming with pride.

While dragons slept, dragonboys toiled by the firelight to make emergency mends and patches to joboquins, vambrace harnesses, and the like. When multiton dragons were in prolonged motion, they played havoc with the web of leather straps, belts, and thongs that held their equipment in place.

Around the fire Relkin worked on Bazil's joboquin, where the weakest chest strap had given way again. Little Jak had a problem with the chin strap on Alsebra's helmet. Swane was vainly trying to sew together a belt that had split, and Manuel was struggling with the mess left from the thonging of the Purple Green's vambrace harness. The harness holding these forearm protectors in place was a weak spot in the standard equipment. The thonging was too lightweight for the job. Dragonboys spent a lot of time making emergency repairs, and the Purple Green had not taken to the newest style of vambrace with chains instead of thongs because the chains had chafed his skin.