kill one dragon. One. How many men-at-arms can you muster?”
“Ten on the town payroll. Then, depending on the nature of their wares, some traders employ guards to ward off thieves. And some folk will volunteer. Maybe fifty?”
“It isn’t enough. You have to evacuate everyone who can’t fight. Send some out on the Reach in boats. The rest can hike south and east. Those folk who can brace a spear or draw a bow will stay behind as rearguard. If we’re lucky, all the non-warriors will get clear before the wyrms come. Then the rest of us can run away, too.”
“Just abandon the town? Surely there’s another way.”
“If this was a great city, with a standing army and stone fortifications, maybe. As it is, your only other option is to die.” “But…” She shook her head. “Won’t the dragons just chase us down?”
“Even if they do, some folk are likely to escape. It’s a better chance than staying here. And the dragons may not pursue. They might linger to level the houses or tear off in another direction all together. Ordinarily, they’re sensible in their way, but when this fit takes them, it’s difficult to guess what exactly they’ll do.”
Esvelle turned to the apprentice and said, “Run to the other members of the council, then to the captain of the watch. Tell them I need them here immediately.” She glanced back at the hunting party and added, “You’d better be right about this, or were all going to look like idiots.”
The next two hours offered up a little taste of the Hells as Dorn and his comrades made the same arguments over and over again, often to merchants more skeptical than Esvelle. Gradually, though, the bullying and pleading had an effect. A ragtag little militia gathered. Other folk began to flee the town, though far too many remained, either because they disbelieved, were wasting precious time packing their valuables, or simply hadn’t yet heard that anything was amiss. Up until
that point, Dorn had thought of Ylraphon as a hardscrabble outpost populated by rugged menloggers, trappers, and outlawsbut it gave him a pang to see how many frightened, bewildered women and children were scurrying through the frigid dark.
Finally, after he’d talked himself hoarse, he wound up leading a band of what an optimist might call men-at-arms with Will at his side to serve as his lieutenant. Raryn and Pavel were commanding another squad to the west, closer to the harbor. Dorn had considered assigning each member of his band to direct a different troupe of militiamen. The hunters were, after all, the only people there who knew anything much about dragons, but he was loath to order any of his friends into peril without even one trusted, seasoned comrade to watch his back. They didn’t owe Ylraphon that much valor.
Come to think of it, having slaughtered the ooze drake as per their contract, they didn’t owe the place anything. They could have hidden safe in the Flooded Forest while the dragon flight had its bloody way with the town. No one, not even Will, had so much as suggested the possibility.
Warsling dangling in his hand the halfling studied the sky above the swamp, looking for the bat-winged shapes that, as they beat their way south, might momentarily cut across Selűne’s silvery crescent or block the light of one or another star.
“I don’t see anything yet,” Will said.
“Nor do I,” said Ailon Finch. The balding, heavyset cloth merchant’s voice sounded a little strangled. He’d squeezed himself into a cuirass a couple sizes too small, a family heirloom, perhaps, and his neck and arms fairly bulged out the openings. “I think this is all foolishness. We’re going to catch our deaths standing in the cold waiting for dragons that never appear.”
“They’ll appear,” said Will. “We explained, that’s why the ooze drake was acting strangely. It was slipping into frenzy. It’s also why the other wyrms called out.”
“They’re not roaring
“Ten on the town payroll. Then, depending on the nature of their wares, some traders employ guards to ward off thieves. And some folk will volunteer. Maybe fifty?”
“It isn’t enough. You have to evacuate everyone who can’t fight. Send some out on the Reach in boats. The rest can hike south and east. Those folk who can brace a spear or draw a bow will stay behind as rearguard. If we’re lucky, all the non-warriors will get clear before the wyrms come. Then the rest of us can run away, too.”
“Just abandon the town? Surely there’s another way.”
“If this was a great city, with a standing army and stone fortifications, maybe. As it is, your only other option is to die.” “But…” She shook her head. “Won’t the dragons just chase us down?”
“Even if they do, some folk are likely to escape. It’s a better chance than staying here. And the dragons may not pursue. They might linger to level the houses or tear off in another direction all together. Ordinarily, they’re sensible in their way, but when this fit takes them, it’s difficult to guess what exactly they’ll do.”
Esvelle turned to the apprentice and said, “Run to the other members of the council, then to the captain of the watch. Tell them I need them here immediately.” She glanced back at the hunting party and added, “You’d better be right about this, or were all going to look like idiots.”
The next two hours offered up a little taste of the Hells as Dorn and his comrades made the same arguments over and over again, often to merchants more skeptical than Esvelle. Gradually, though, the bullying and pleading had an effect. A ragtag little militia gathered. Other folk began to flee the town, though far too many remained, either because they disbelieved, were wasting precious time packing their valuables, or simply hadn’t yet heard that anything was amiss. Up until
that point, Dorn had thought of Ylraphon as a hardscrabble outpost populated by rugged menloggers, trappers, and outlawsbut it gave him a pang to see how many frightened, bewildered women and children were scurrying through the frigid dark.
Finally, after he’d talked himself hoarse, he wound up leading a band of what an optimist might call men-at-arms with Will at his side to serve as his lieutenant. Raryn and Pavel were commanding another squad to the west, closer to the harbor. Dorn had considered assigning each member of his band to direct a different troupe of militiamen. The hunters were, after all, the only people there who knew anything much about dragons, but he was loath to order any of his friends into peril without even one trusted, seasoned comrade to watch his back. They didn’t owe Ylraphon that much valor.
Come to think of it, having slaughtered the ooze drake as per their contract, they didn’t owe the place anything. They could have hidden safe in the Flooded Forest while the dragon flight had its bloody way with the town. No one, not even Will, had so much as suggested the possibility.
Warsling dangling in his hand the halfling studied the sky above the swamp, looking for the bat-winged shapes that, as they beat their way south, might momentarily cut across Selűne’s silvery crescent or block the light of one or another star.
“I don’t see anything yet,” Will said.
“Nor do I,” said Ailon Finch. The balding, heavyset cloth merchant’s voice sounded a little strangled. He’d squeezed himself into a cuirass a couple sizes too small, a family heirloom, perhaps, and his neck and arms fairly bulged out the openings. “I think this is all foolishness. We’re going to catch our deaths standing in the cold waiting for dragons that never appear.”
“They’ll appear,” said Will. “We explained, that’s why the ooze drake was acting strangely. It was slipping into frenzy. It’s also why the other wyrms called out.”
“They’re not roaring
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