Darkness Descending

Sure as sure, a behemoth-rider threw up his arms and slid out of his seat to lie crumpled and still among stalks of wheat now going from green to gold. Leudast hadn’t seen whence the beam came. But a couple of Unkerlanters cried out “There!” and pointed to a spot in the field not far ahead of him.

A moment later, a beam blazed past his head, so close he could feel the heat on his cheek. He threw himself flat and scrambled forward through the grain. The rich smells of fertile soil and ripening wheat reminded him the harvest would be coming soon. Were he back in his village, were this a time of peace, he would follow the horse-drawn reaper, gathering up the grain it cut down. Now he wanted to cut down that Algarvian soldier who’d come so close to reaping him.

As he moved toward the spot where he thought the redhead hid, he tried to work out what the Algarvian would be doing. If he was a new man himself, he’d probably be running. But a veteran might well sit tight, knowing he was unlikely to escape and intent on doing all the damage he could before being hunted down and killed. The way this fellow had coolly blazed down the behemoth-rider argued that he knew what he was about.

Never had it crossed Leudast’s mind that the redhead might come hunting him. But the stalks of wheat parted in front of him, and there was the Algarvian, waxed mustachios all awry. He shouted something in his language and swung the business end of his stick toward Leudast.

He was smart and dangerous and very fast. But so was Leudast, and Leudast blazed first. A neat hole appeared in the redhead’s face, just below his right eye. The beam boiled his brains inside his skull; most of the back of his head blew out. He was dead before he crashed to the ground like a dropped sack of barley.

“Powers above,” Leudast muttered. Cautiously, he got to his feet and looked around to find out what had happened in the bigger fight while he and the Algarvian carried on their own private war. The Unkerlanter behemoths and his comrades were still going forward. He too hurried ahead.

Algarvian dragons fell out of the sky on the behemoths. But a couple of those dragons smashed to earth; the Unkerlanters manning the heavy sticks some of the behemoths carried were not caught napping. And Unkerlanter dragons, their scales painted the rock-gray of Leudast’s tunic, attacked the beasts gaudy in Algarve’s red, green, and white. The redheads hurt the troop of behemoths, but could not wreck it.

Here and there, little fires smoldered in the wheat. Had the wind been stronger, they would have grown and spread. A couple of them, one around the burning body of a dragon, were trying to spread anyhow. Leudast skirted them and ran on. He’d seen far worse things than fields afire.

More eggs began falling among his comrades, these not dropped from dragons but hurled by Algarvian egg-tossers behind the line. Leudast threw himself into a hole one of them had made in bursting. A moment later, after another burst close by, Sergeant Magnulf jumped into the same hole--and onto Leudast, who said, “Oof!”

“Sorry,” Magnulf said, though he didn’t sound very sorry. Leudast wasn’t unduly put out; Magnulf worried about saving his own neck first and everything else afterwards, as any sensible soldier would have. The sergeant went on, “Stinking redheads hit back faster than you wish they would, don’t they?”

“Aye,” Leudast said. “I wish I could say you were wrong.” He tried to look on the bright side: “We’re getting better at that ourselves, too. Our dragons gave them more than they wanted a little while ago.”

“I know, but they do it all the stinking time,” Magnulf said. “The whoresons have more crystals than we do, and they keep on talking into them.”

Shouts from ahead warned that the Algarvians were doing more than talking into their crystals. Leudast and Magnulf scrambled up to the edge of their hole and looked east. Behemoths and soldiers and eggs had flattened enough of the wheat to let them see troopers in tan kilts and tunics running toward them in loose order.

Leudast laughed out loud. “They didn’t do enough talking this time. Look, Sergeant--they didn’t bring any behemoths with ‘em, and we’ve still got some of ours.”

Magnulf’s eyes glowed. “Ha! They’ll pay for that.” Gloating anticipation filled his voice.

Pay for it the Algarvians did. The Unkerlanter behemoths’ heavy sticks blazed them down at a range from which the redheads could not hurt the beasts or their riders. Eggs from other behemoths’ tossers burst among the Algarvians, tossing some aside like broken dolls and making most of the rest go to earth to keep from suffering a like fate.

“Forward!” Captain Hawart called. Leudast heaved himself out of the hole and made for the Algarvians. So did Sergeant Magnulf. Almost without noticing they were doing it, they spread apart from each other, making themselves into less inviting targets for the enemy.