reassurance. The servants were not robeings as he had first thought, he saw now;
they were of roughly similar shape, but constructed not of metal but some soft,
bendable casing more like artificial organics from artisans’ plantations . . .
like children’s dolls. What manner, then, of artificial beings were these? Had
the Dragon King manufactured them to attend its needs? If so, what awesome,
unimaginable powers did it command?
The servant beckoned again. For a few seconds longer, Thirg hesitated. Then he
realized the futility of even thinking to disobey; who could hope to defy the
wishes of one with such powers? Without quite realizing what he was doing, Thirg
urged his mount forward once more at a slow walk and entered the circle of
violet radiance. Nothing terrible happened, and after exchanging apprehensive
glances, Dornvald and Geynor followed him. The others watched from farther back,
and one by one found the courage to move forward. Those on the ground rose
slowly. Then Fenyig, who was standing with the rearguard on the top of the rise
behind and looking back anxiously called, “Pray to the dragon to protect us,
Dornvald. The soldiers are below already, and almost upon us.”
No sooner had he shouted his warning when the first missile from a
fireball-thrower sailed over the ridge and splattered itself across an ice
boulder. The second hit one of the pack steeds squarely, and the animal fell
screeching with its midbody engulfed in violet flames. On the rise, Fenyig and
his companions scattered amid a hail of projectiles hurled from below, one of
them slumping forward with a corrosive dart protruding from his shoulder. More
balls fell, and one of them ignited something metallic halfway up one of the
overlooking slopes.
“Number two searchlight emplacement hit!” a voice shouted over the radio. “No
casualties.”
“Near miss on Yellow Sector. We’ve got equipment burning from splashes of
incendiary.”
Another ball landed just in front of the assembled reception party, which broke
ranks and fell back toward the lander in alarm. “That one almost got the ship!”
a voice yelled.
“Colonel Wallis, engage with maximum force in the approach zone,” Giraud
ordered.
“All forward units, fire for effect! Launch gunships and engage enemy below
point three-seven hundred!”
Thirg whirled to look behind as a thundering roar erupted suddenly from below
the rise, mixed with a hail of chattering, loud swishing sounds, and deafening
concussions. More roars came from overhead. He looked up. Two of the small
dragons were climbing; then violet-flaming darts streaked down and out of view,
and an instant later more concussions from beyond the rise jarred his ears. He
had never in his life experienced anything like this. His senses reeled. He sat
frozen, his body and his mind paralyzed by terror.
And then all was quiet. He looked around fearfully. Dornvald and Geynor were
sitting petrified where they had been before the thunder. Farther back, Fenyig
and the rearguard were motionless, staring back down the rise. They seemed
bewildered. Thirg looked at Dornvald. Dornvald shook his head uncomprehendingly,
and after a few more seconds called back, “What terrifies you so, Fenyig? What
has happened?”
At first Thirg thought Fenyig hadn’t heard. Then Fenyig turned his head slowly,
raised an arm to point back the way they had come, and answered in an unsteady
voice, “The King’s soldiers have been destroyed, Dornvald . . . Every one of the
soldiers is destroyed—torn to pieces and smitten by dragon fire … in a
moment.”
“A storm of lightning bolts!” another, just before Fenyig, choked hoarsely. “We
saw it. The whole of the King’s army would have fared no better, nor even
twelve-twelves of armies.” He looked at Thirg. “What league have you entered
into, Sorcerer?”
The servants who had retreated to the dragon for protection were advancing
again, and the stunned outlaws were slowly returning to life. More servants were
appearing from concealment on the slopes above— there were more of them than
Thirg had realized. Although still shaken, he was beginning to feel that the
worst was over, as if they had passed a kind of test. For he had seen the
awesome anger of the dragon, and the dragon had spared them. Perhaps, then, only