The Dragon and the Fair Maid of Kent

  "But you might be able to individually ward completely our two hundred and twenty-three footmen."

  "Nonsense!"

  Jim was thinking. He decided to talk to Dafydd again, mentally.

  "Dafydd?"

  "Yes, James?"

  "How did you get so many spearmen, Dafydd?"

  "There was less than no difficulty. In fact, I had almost to fight some of the older men and lads below the age of fifteen, who were bound to be in the line, but I told them the big spears were too heavy—not to carry, but to use well—and that some were needed to defend the walls here if those in the field all fell. It is settled now, though there was one bad moment when Tom Kitchen swore he was fifteen and May Heather swore he was not—the two are betrothed, I understand."

  "Good. Well, hang on a little longer. I'm still talking available magick with Carolinus. We may be able to protect the footmen to some extent magickally. Call you back in a bit. Tell Brian it won't be long."

  "I will do that." There was almost a chuckle—a rare thing from Dafydd. "He is having some difficulty as his horsemen grow restive and eager to sally."

  "Well, Jim," Carolinus sounded as if he was chewing on ground glass as he spoke, "I regret to refuse you on this wish of yours, but—"

  "Not at all," said Jim. "I understand. The death of my men and neighbors, the taking of this castle and the slaughter of all of us inside it—including the King—cannot be compared in importance with maintaining the highest possible level of the Collegiate members' hoards of magickal energy."

  Carolinus glared at him, but said nothing for a long second. Jim, judging he had hit the other harder than at any time so far, was wisely quiet. He knew, as well as the rest of the world, that Carolinus had a very real conscience, best left to work by itself. He also knew Carolinus had been not only one of the founders of the Collegiate, but the leader of those who had.

  "They will probably throw me out of the Collegiate," grumbled Carolinus.

  Now it was Jim's turn to say it.

  "Nonsense!" he said it loudly. "Practically the founding father of the organization? If any Magickian suggested it, the rest would arise and destroy him."

  "You do not understand yet, Jim," said Carolinus, a little sadly. "Men must die from time to time. Friends—dear friends, even—must be left to be killed, castles must fall, if necessary. The goal is the future, as well as we can see it, and all that has been built towards it cannot be destroyed for one situation, one battle…"

  Jim still said nothing, though this was also new to him.

  "On the other hand…" said Carolinus, "the death of this present King before his time…"

  "So," pounced Jim, "there is a reason, then, to ward these footmen? Weighed down by great twelve-foot spears meant to stop everything up to charging horses, they'll be standing targets for the goblins' magic spearpoints. Goblins can use all the magic they want, evidently, but we have to be misers with ours?"

  "I said you didn't understand," said Carolinus testily. He hesitated for an additional moment. "Perhaps I could ward all these men of yours, but for only a very short time—say a quarter of an hour."

  "You know," said Jim, "that no battle was ever decided in fifteen minutes."

  "I'm not sure that's true—how long a battle do you expect?"

  Jim tried to remember how long the battle had been in Lyonesse when Arthur had reappeared—a white-bearded man by this time, but still an unbelievable warrior—and once more led his unaging, loyal knights to victory over the mercenary army that the Earl of Cumberland had managed to introduce into a land where ordinary humans were not supposed to go.

  The Lyonesse knights, outnumbered even with Arthur leading them, had fought until they were weary.

  "Six hours," Jim said, playing safe in his estimate.

  "Impossible." But this time Carolinus said the word calmly and almost sadly. "Complete wards for six hours for your men simply cannot be done."

  "Well…" said Jim, "if we were lucky—maybe just five."

  "Still impossible. I could give you a full hour, but that would be the limit."

  "One hour—fighting an enemy that outnumbers us the way the goblins do? An enemy facing only a handful of neighbors and the people of one estate and castle! There's no way we could possibly win in one hour. Look—maybe I can pull a rabbit out of my hat. Give us four and a half hours, and we'll try to do it in less, so you can take back what's left over! Otherwise, it means we're going to lose some good people, when we're still struggling with the goblins and the wards are suddenly gone, but—"

  The argument degenerated into a sordid bargaining session. Carolinus held what Jim badly needed, but with the lives of those he knew and loved up for grabs, Jim was no more ready to lose this fight than any other he had ever been in.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  It was finally settled that the footmen would be completely warded for an hour and a half, the horsemen and their mounts would have their wards for three and a half, the dragons would have their harmless wing fires for the duration of the battle, not to exceed five hours, and up to two hundred dragons would be so equipped.

  "—Moreover," wound up Carolinus, "you'd better go warn them right now what to expect, if they're already in the air, set to go. They're animals, after all, and an animal's instinct, suddenly faced with something it's never met before, is to turn and put distance between itself and whatever it's seeing. I remember, shortly after I qualified for my Magickian's robe, I ran into a large bear from downwind, where he couldn't catch my scent before he saw me. I'd known him well, talked to him before, but he'd never seen me in my robe. He took off like a loosed arrow."

  "You're right," said Jim. "We all through, here?"

  "As far as I'm concerned," said Carolinus. "Don't waste time changing to your dragon-shape and flying out to them. Make yourself invisible and I'll send you to them. Then you can change into dragon and appear flaming before their eyes."

  "Thanks," said Jim, and other words popped out of him as he vanished, before he could stop them: "If you're sure you can spare the magick."

  "Jim," said Carolinus, in mildly reproving tones, "you know this is barely a drop in the bucket compared to what you were asking for."

  Jim's invisible ears burned.

  "You're right," he said, out of his nothingness, "I'm sorry, my tongue ran away with me."

  "Interesting metaphor, that," commented Carolinus, and Jim found himself some three hundred feet above thick forest, with the huge-bodied, mature male dragons. How the young dragons must have pleaded—in vain—to be among them! Here together, the fathers of Cliffside Eyrie looked like all the dragons in the world, filling the sky, moving around each other and him in tight circles. They were all demanding of each other and Secoh, in voices that could be heard half a mile away, when Jim-dragon was going to show up.

  His sudden appearance in their midst abruptly silenced the enormous voices. The dragons took one look at his flaming wings and headed for the horizon in all directions. Carolinus had been right about animals and instinct.

  "It's me—Jim-dragon!" he roared in his own enormous dragon voice. "With the flaming wings you're going to wear! Come back here!"

  His voice easily carried to the furthest of them. Cautiously, one by one, they began to return until they were back, circling again. They were unusually silent. Not even Secoh, who had flown back closest to Jim, said a word.

  "Dragons of Cliffside!" roared Jim. "You see me now in this fearsome form with the flaming wings you yourself will wear and use to terrify the goblins. However, the fire you see is purely magickal. Far from being burned by it yourselves, you will not even feel it."

  Mutters of sub-subtoned pleasure at this reassurance came from his audience.

  "But I have come to ask you all to pull out of your dives when you stoop upon them. Pull out at least a good double dragon's-length above their heads. Who, better than I, knows our natural dragonly urge to close with an enemy once our blood is up? But the fact is you will terrify m
ore goblins if you stop just out of reach of them than you will if you come right to ground and start killing individuals. Besides, that will be the wise thing to do, as mature dragons like yourselves will at once recognize. Can I count on you all to do that?"

  A rising, murmurous roar, a sound only dragons could achieve, came from them all. They were not all sure it was that wise…

  "I've just come from Mage Carolinus," Jim went on hastily. "And it was his suggestion this is the best way for dragons to begin attacking a large number of goblins, all with spears." It was a lie, of course, but one in a good cause, he told himself.

  The murmur changed to a general roar of assent. These dragons, Jim knew, were delighted that they did not actually have to fight. In fact, they had no intention of doing so, no matter what Jim wanted. Why risk yourself for neither gold nor gratification? But they were happy at seeming to be talked into doing just what they, themselves, wanted.

  "Thank you, my cousins of Cliffside!" said Jim. "I know what it will cost you to hold yourselves back, but it's the only way to win. And our ground fighters are badly outnumbered, they desperately need your help—" Having taken Carolinus' name in vain, Jim had now done the same with all his human defenders, of whom not merely the human knights, but all of them, would have hated him from this day forward if he suggested they needed dragons to save them from anything.

  "Now—I'll tell you when I want you to come to our aid. I'll send a magickal signal to Secoh when I'm ready for you to go into your act—I say 'act' in the sense of making a diversion!" he added hastily. A large martial-sounding word had worked with the hobs.

  It worked again, here. The dragons roared final agreement. Carolinus yanked him back to visibility, wearing his human body again, and in the Solar.

  "Well done," said Carolinus.

  "Thanks. So you saw and heard what I said to them just now?" said Jim. "I wish I could do that."

  "For the last time," Carolinus breathed out an exasperated breath, "stop wishing. You'll find your own ways of doing such things. How can I get it through your head that we all work at our art differently? You already do things I can't do—"

  "I do?' Jim looked at him, astonished.

  "—and don't ask me what they are. I've no intention of telling you. All right, what now?"

  "Now," said Jim, "we actually do attack. Angie, Hob, you stay with me, here. You, too, Carolinus—if you don't mind. Forgive me—I don't mean to sound demanding, But I might need you once the fighting starts."

  "No doubt."

  Jim threw a mental question to Dafydd: "Are your footmen ready to attack?"

  "All ready," was Dafydd's answer.

  "They'll be protected by magick for a short while—after that they're on their own. Start moving them out. If they haven't been told yet, tell them now. They'll lead the attack, but the horsemen will be right behind them, ready to ride around them and stop the goblins' rush."

  "I've already told them, James," thought Dafydd, "They took it well. They are eager to the fight as the mounted men—and proud indeed to go first!"

  "Good. Now I've got to warn Brian about that," Jim said, and switched his mental connection to his other friend. "Brian, are your horsemen ready to attack?"

  "Ready, and champing at their bits. Not happy about the common men going first, of course—but the Prince told them and no one murmured."

  "Excellent. Give them my apologies, Brian, and tell them I've been talking to Carolinus. We're going to have help from the Cliffside Dragons, flying on wings that're aflame."

  "Sensible idea, that. Will they really fight?"

  "I've asked them not to. Just to stoop almost to the goblins, then rise again. They agreed. They're just there to frighten the goblins and disorganize them."

  "Good! Our men will want to win the day if it's to be won at all!"

  "I'm glad they feel like that. By the way, you know the Prince is to give the command to attack. I want him to do that, but after that don't let him get carried away. You're to be the actual commander in the field. Once you're in the battle, you tell him what orders to give—otherwise, he can simply fight his own fight."

  "I will not be easy in my mind doing that James. Aside from his rank, he was at Poitiers, and I was not."

  "Do it anyway," said Jim, "or call me in your head, and I'll explain it to him in his—but I don't want to do that unless I have to. I've got to go now."

  "Rest easy James. If must be, I can deal with him out here. Anon."

  "Take care—" Jim stopped himself from adding the words "—of yourself." He had not wanted to mention to Dafydd or Brian that the witchery of Agatha Falon or the magic of the Warlock of the West—if he was still there—might somehow cause an unhappy turn for the human side. The less distractions they had, the better.

  If Falon and her Warlock were active, it would be for only a short time, anyway, until Carolinus put a stop to whatever damage they could do. Hastily, Jim withdrew from Brian's mind and contacted the Prince mentally.

  "Your Grace, this is James, speaking to you. Carolinus and I have decided that the best use can be made of our magick and the small force at our command if your horsemen follow the footmen at first, taking care not to override or trample them in their eagerness to get to the goblins."

  "Is this really the necessary way, James?" came back in clear, sharp thought from young Edward. A Plantagenet quickness, there.

  "It is, Your Grace," Jim said, and without waiting for an answer, he continued, "—God speed you. If ready to take the horsemen out after the spearmen, you perhaps would wish to alert them so, now."

  "Then I will so command. None of your horsed gentlemen will disobey my order. I shall also myself ride behind the footmen, but first of all others. I would like to see the simple country knight who would dare ride before me."

  "Thank you, Your Grace. I've warned Brian you might do so. Also, there will be dragons helping us, too—he can tell you something more of them."

  "Dragons? Very well. I will not delay you longer, James. I take it you may speak to me like this during the engagement with this rabble of Naturals?"

  "Yes, Your Grace."

  "Good. Go then."

  Jim broke the connection.

  "You make rather free with my name, I notice, Jim," said Carolinus dryly.

  "Forgive me, Mage, but I'd make free with anything that will help us now."

  Jim went to one of the windows to look down at the courtyard. Already the spearmen and archers were massing in orderly fashion by the great gates, now opening. The Prince could be seen on the horse he had ridden into Malencontri originally, giving his order to the horsemen—no sign of resentment from them so far, but it was hard to tell from this angle and distance. RHIP—"Rank Has Its Privileges"—was one of the dearest-held rules of armies since time immemorial.

  He became aware of Angie at the window on his left, Carolinus at the one on his right. The Prince finished speaking and turned his horse's head about, ready to lead. The great gates, cranked out by the men on duty there, were now open, and the footmen, led by Dafydd—on a horse today, so he could both be seen and better heard by those he commanded—were already going through.

  The fleet-footed archers could now be seen running to the right and left, once they were beyond the drawbridge, to cover the emergence of the spearmen. Surprisingly, the thickly surrounding horde of goblins retreated almost entirely into the surrounding woods.

  The sun was shining brightly, but the earlier morning's breeze had fallen, now failing to flap or ruffle any article of the footmen's clothing. Behind them, the Prince had positioned his horse ready to follow.

  Jim felt a strange urge to be down there with them. He pushed it back. Had the feeling been just conscience? Or a primitive urge that had grown in him, after the several years now that he and Angie had spent in this violent age, to join in the fight?

  In any case, it was out of the question. His place was up here, where he could see not only all of Malencontri's defenders once they closed in ba
ttle with the goblins, but all of the cleared ground in front of the castle that would be the battlefield.

  "They're wearing helmets still," said Angie suddenly. She was speaking of the helmets Malencontri had been able to issue to the spearmen. They would be little use against the goblins, but wearing them made the footmen feel rather as if they were accoutered like real warriors. They had always produced that effect before on the castle staff, when they had been needed to look like men-at-arms on the curtain wall, to the eyes of enemies threatening the castle.

  "Maybe," said Jim, turning to Carolinus, "I'm wrong, maybe I ought to have told them all more detail about the magick you're going to use to help them. But it seems to me that the fewer any one of them out there—except the dragons, who had to be told—knows of the magick involved here, the better."

  "Jim," said Carolinus, "there are moments when I no longer despair of your hopes of becoming a Magickian of worth."

  The chatter of the hobs on the roofs suddenly rose to a clamor.

  "And here come the goblins!" said Angie.

  The footmen had emerged from the gates and begun to spread out. With that, suddenly the goblins surged forward, a wave of bodies alight with glittering eyes and glinting spears. The spearmen were spreading out to form a single line across the space some thirty yards beyond the moat.

  Suddenly impatient with the closed window before him and the feeling of separateness from what was happening beyond it, Jim threw open the glass. The keen, cold air of the slight breeze cooled his face, and sounds from outside the castle wall came more sharply to his ears.

  The spearmen's line was complete, their last man had joined its right end. Dafydd, mounted on his horse before them, called a command, the words of which Jim could not quite make out. The spearmen gave a roar and charged the oncoming goblins. The horsemen poured out behind then, the Prince and his flag-bearer riding two horse-lengths in front. The great gates were now closing. They could not be quickly opened again in case of a need for a sudden, rapid retreat.