Roger Parkinson - Summon Your Dragons

“Someone reminded me yesterday that the Gashans can throw fire. Oh yes, it's true, they can. We're going to give them the fright of their short lives! Drinagish has found a way to throw fire back at them, and some of the Emperor’s men are going to try it out. So when you see fire erupting in the Gashan ranks you'll know what it is. It's Drinagish blasting the front ranks and frightening the rest half to death. Don't kill too many Drinagish, leave some for us!”

They burst into cheering and laughter, someone started a chant of ‘Menish, Menish’, but it faded when Menish raised his hand for silence.

“So remember two things, the signal,” Bolythak dipped the standard again, “and Drinagish’s fire.

“What will you do when you see the signal?”

Cries of ‘charge’ and ‘kill’ were shouted back.

“I'm getting old, I can't hear you. What will you do?”

“Charge!”

He put his finger to his ear and nodded at Bolythak who dipped the standard again.

“Charge!” The cry roared back. They drew swords and waved them above their heads, they stamped the ground until it shook. It took some time for them to settle down again.

“Stupid Gashans!” said Menish. “Fancy wanting to fight you lot!” He climbed down from the horse amid more cheers and laughter. Their response had heartened him, even his leg felt better. He had noticed several people he would have counted as enemies, people like Marayhir, cheering along with the rest. He felt he had got Vorish’s message through.

It took them only four days to reach the battleground. Vorish’s scouts met them halfway through the mountain pass with news that the Gashans had been sighted on barges crossing the lake. From that point on they marched day and night until they reached the wide valley where the battle had been fought forty years before. The mound of dead, where Telish IV and Menish’s father lay, was still there, so was the river. But a grey haze obscured the far end of the valley. Somewhere in that haze lay the Gashan camp, but they could not see it. Even the scouts could bring them no information, which incensed Vorish. Those who entered the haze did not return.

By evening the Anthorians had set up a camp near the river. Menish made another encouraging speech to his folk while they ate, reminding them about waiting for the banner to dip and about Drinagish’s fire. They still thought they were on a cattle raid, though, and so many of them were so young. But they were tired too. They had slept little the last few nights.

Vorish’s light cavalry ate cold food and used the cover of night to move onto the forested slopes overlooking the battlefield. It was important that the Gashans not realise they were there until after they engaged Anthor. They could light no fires to warm themselves that night.

The heavy cavalry assembled behind the Anthorian forces. There had been arguments about that, but Menish knew that the heavy horses needed flat country to be effective. They ought to have been arrayed in front of Menish’s light cavalry but he knew the Anthorians would not accept that.

Vorish set up his command post above the tree line, where he could see the battlefield clearly. It too was fireless. Menish and Adhara walked up there after they had eaten. It was a cold night and they hugged their cloaks around themselves, but they both wanted to escape the pressure of people in the camp more than they wanted to be warmed by the fire. A silence enfolded them like the cold as they climbed the hill. The forest dwellers of the day were asleep, and the night creatures were silent. Vorish’s men were away over to their right, not in this part of the forest. Adhara had deliberately chosen a path that would avoid them.

There was little undergrowth and they followed a rough path threading between straight trunks that glistened where the moonlight touched them. In a little while the trees thinned and they were able to see across the valley. The moon was just past full. It shone on a white mist that rose from the river and spread in wisps across the plain. Away down the valley they could see pinpricks of light, the camp fires of Gashan. Menish knew Vorish’s scouts would be down there, learning what they could under cover of darkness. He remembered the dreadful scene he had witnessed in Gashan and wondered what such people did to prepare for battle.

“What is that?” said Adhara, breaking the silence. In among the drifting mist they could see a faint light out in the middle of the valley. “There's someone down there.”

“Probably Vorish’s engineers. That's about where they are laying the gourds of pitch.”

“Surely they've already done that.”

“Yes, but someone will be guarding them. Anyway, it will not be a Gashan skirmish party, they wouldn't carry a light.”

“Do you think Vorish’s idea will work?”

“Perhaps. I don't know. Vorish has ignored the influence of the Eye of Duzral. When I think back to what I saw in Gashan I believe it was controlling them, making them act together. Last time the Gashans were savages, this time they may be better disciplined. Also, we still don't know how many of them there are. Vorish’s scouts have not yet found out.”

“I, too, have no hope for tomorrow. I've said this before. Savages or not they'll destroy us utterly.”

“I didn't say I have no hope. I have a little. I didn't yet explain why I went to Kelerish.”

“You couldn't sleep. It was something to do with the Sons of Gilish.”

“I was afraid to sleep because I had a constant dream that terrified me. I dreamed I saw Thalissa’s ghost rising out of Kelerish. That's why I went there, to show myself it was false. But Azkun emerged instead.”

“And Thalissa was alive in Lianar, not a ghost at all. Whatever demon brings you such dreams is either a liar or confused.”

“The ghost spoke to me, telling me these Gashans would attack. In the attack she said I would die.”

Adhara said nothing but he felt her arms wrap around him. Moonlight caught the grey threads of her hair as her chin rested on his shoulder.

“If you die tomorrow I'll be at your side. My life is over when yours is.”

“Don't say such things! If anything happens to me you must carry on. Drinagish will need you. Anthor will need you. If we're not destroyed you must be there to help rebuild.”

“Perhaps,” she said noncommittally. “But you must be there too, my love.”

The next day Gashan was arrayed before them across the plain. They were too distant to see any one of them clearly, but Menish remembered the murder in their eyes. The scouts had reported back, and the news was encouraging. A mere thirty thousand infantry and there was no possibility of a reserve force hidden under cover, the trees were thin at that end of the valley and the scouts had scoured the surrounding heights for hiding places.

On those numbers, by rights, the cavalry would hack the Gashans to pieces. The news rippled through the Anthorian ranks and Menish could see them looking both eager and relaxed. This would be easy meat, they would mow down these Gashans and then brag to the Relanese whose swords would be left unbloodied.

The scouts said the Gashans were poorly armed, carrying simple short swords and wearing nothing but their painted body designs. They did not even carry shields. It should have been encouraging, but to Menish it seemed that the Gashan army were perhaps so confident of their victory they had not bothered to arm themselves. The scouts had also seen the strange engines that Menish remembered from the last battle, the ones he thought threw fire. They were on wagons pulled by teams of Gashans, the scouts had counted eighty of them. Vorish had laid ten gourds of pitch.

And now Gashan was approaching. They came leisurely, silently, a walking pace, no faster. The wind shifted, blowing the stink of Gashan over them. They had brought the reek of their swamps with them, a rottenness that caught in Menish’s nostrils. There was also a smell of burning. Plumes of grey smoke rose over the Gashans as they prepared their machines for battle.