The knight, the dragon and the necromancer. Daert dilogy-1

— As long as they don't get into the camp, — grumbled Boyarin Yuriev. With his arms folded across his chest, the bearded man towered over his companions. Now he wore the blue uniform and black eye patch given by the Marshal. — The fortifications are weak, but still...

— They would not sit back. — Marshal de Cotoci stroked his short brown beard, decorated with strands of grey. Rosa had always thought of the commander as a big, heavy man, but he was barely a shoulder's breadth away from Yuriev. — There are more of them, they think we're desperate and trying to get out of the gorge before winter comes. The King's general's more worried about none of us escaping after the defeat.

— He's partly right, — Donna Vittoria said. The necromancer was standing in a spectacular pose, her leg apart, her palm on her thigh, her chin upturned. The wind that had risen during the night was ruffling her blue cloak, the brim of her hat, the red strands at her temples. She looked like a portrait. — There are too many people in the gorge, not enough supplies to last all winter, and the mountain trails will soon be covered with snow, and supplies will be cut off. It's important for us to lift the blockade now. But we're not desperate. It's just that the soldiers are ready to fight in a new way.

The marshal's calculation was justified. Rosa saw the soldiers pouring into the passages between the ramparts of the camp, forming an infantry battle formation before her eyes. The familiar forest of peaks rose up, the flags of the kingdom fluttering in the wind. Soon the gendarmes rode out on the flank, shining their armor in the morning sunlight. There were no cannons, only a few anti-dragon and volley guns on the fortifications. Auguste had taken all the heavy artillery with him, to tear down the walls of rebellious towns and castles.

— Let's not wait for them, — decided Marshal de Cotoci, lowering his spyglass. — Let's attack.

The bugler played a resounding signal, which was echoed down the slope. Within moments, the order reached the troops. Lytel's figure moved, and the elf seemed to raise her violin and draw her bow across the strings. With a wave of her hand, she took the first step. The Black Guard moved measuredly into the offensive. The wall of royal infantry crawled forward with a slight delay. From afar, it seemed more imposing than the rebel army — three huge squares, a countless sea of spearheads. The rebels, who were outnumbered, had stretched their lines so as not to expose their flanks, and in front of the companies of pikemen, squads of shooters were forming several ranks. In the centre of the sharp-eared lady captain gathered under her command of the best soldiers with muskets, on the left and right hand of them positioned arquebusiers. At Auguste's supporters men with guns in a thin chain fringed the battalions, sometimes glimpsing right among the pikemen. Behind the backs of the Guards, Colonel de Beaulior's cuirassiers moved to the flank against which the King's gendarmes were stationed.

The rebel army halted first. In a moment a white fringe of gunpowder smoke rose over the front line. Like foam over the crest of a sea wave. The companies of shooters came in motion — the first ranks retreated back, forward came the second. Another volley. And movement again. Auguste's battles did not slow down, the royal arquebusiers answered on the move — individual white sultanas blossomed here and there. Rosa had expected the gendarmes to rush to attack such a tempting target as the shooters ahead of the pikemen, but past failures had clearly taught the cavalry caution. They led the horses at a steady pace, not yet overtaking the infantry.

At first it seemed that the rebel firing was doing no harm to the battalions. But the spyglass showed how, after each volley, the front lines of the pikemen were thrown off their stride. Dozens of soldiers fell, hit by bullets, and their comrades tried to take their place. Real devastation took place in the centre, where the musketeers were firing. And the closer the king's troops came, the more damage was done by the firing. The battle formation was becoming loose. Besides, Rosa remembered that pikemen wear different armour, and the best ones are in the first two or three ranks. This meant that the soldiers who came from the back of the formation were less protected.

— At first Auguste's lines were like pieces of bread on a plate, — the girl whispered to Jeanne, standing to her right. — Now they're slices of bread that have been watered down.

The black-haired warrior only snorted in response.

The mages joined the battle — several fireballs and lightning bolts flashed, some of them not even reaching the target, others burning a couple of dozen soldiers, which could hardly affect the course of the battle. On Auguste's right flank someone tried to cover the infantry with a force shield against bullets, but the shield caught the ground with its lower edge, shimmered and melted. Finally, the gendarmes decided to attack. They moved to a trot, lined up a wedge aimed at the rebel shooter companies, and galloped off. But the shooters did not flee — the musketeers transferred their fire from the infantry to the cavalry, and the arquebusiers, who were under attack, met the cavalrymen with a volley almost at point-blank range. The steel wedge crumpled without even hitting the target — the shooters were aiming at the horses. Without delay, de Beaulior's cuirassiers descended on the gendarmes. And for the second time before Rosa's eyes the lighter cavalrymen overturned the heavier ones, scattered them, drove them back under the protection of the infantry. But the infantry battalions themselves were already shaking. They literally softened — indeed, like stale bread, which one end was dipped in a bowl of water. There was no longer a solid wall of spears; the musket-bullets were too frequent and too severe to mow down the front ranks. When de Beaulior's cavalry, who were chasing the gendarmes, suddenly changed course and cut into the corner of one of the battalions, it simply fell apart. The whole square of infantry began to lose shape, from it sprinkled "crumbs" of fleeing soldiers. But the cuirassiers were too few to crush several regiments, and after the first attack they turned back, trotting back to their own. However, the attack was demonstrative — it showed the state of the enemy in the best possible way.

— Forward, — the marshal ordered briefly. The trumpeter gave the command, which was duplicated by the signal flags on the high poles. The Black Guard, down on the plain, resumed their advance. The shooters were still moving first, ready to fire a volley before the pikemen took over. Auguste's army, on the other hand, halted, hastily trying to close ranks. At that very moment, behind the Guards' headquarters, on a high mountain slope, an alarm horn sounded. Someone shouted, and a volley gun began to raise its barrels with a creak near Rosa.

— Air raid. — Jeanne took Rosa under her elbow and turned her head, looking for a threat in the sky.

Three winged shadows, black, grey, and red, emerged from the clouds and swept toward the ground. A green blur darted across them. A Toad swooped in front of the scarlet dragon's nose, dragging it with it. But the other two continued to dive at the Black Guard.

— Fall back! General retreat! — De Cotoci shouted. — We must withdraw to the gorge, closer to the artillery!

There was no time for the army to fulfil his order. The royal dragons were descending not on the forest of spades, but on the defenceless shooters. The arquebusiers scattered, hiding among the pikemen, but the dense rectangle of musketeers did not move. The soldiers raised the barrels of their guns, evidently at someone's command, and gave a concerted volley — all the ranks at once. The grey dragon, who had overtaken his comrade, flew straight into the cloud of bullets that could pierce a steel cuirass. The force shield that covered the beast from the front flared up and immediately went out. The lizard, with a roar that was heard even in the headquarters, lay down on the wing, went sideways. But there was nothing left for the soldiers to meet the next dragon. The black giant glided over the ground, scattering the gunners, kicking up dust and gunpowder haze with its wings. It lowered to the ground, turned to the rebels, roared, whipping left and right with its powerful spiked tail. The black figures of the soldiers jumped away from him like frightened ants. All but one. Tall, slender, in a tight-fitting suit, with her head uncovered...

— Lytel! — The necromancer's apprentice pressed the eyepiece of her spyglass tighter against her glasses. — What she...

It was hard to distinguish what was in the elf's hands — but it was obviously a musket, not a violin. The lady captain raised her weapon. Rosa did not hear the shot, but saw a white stream of smoke stretching to the sky. The giant black dragon shook its head, growled, and covered its muzzle with its front paw.

— She hit him in the eye, — said Jeanne, who had borrowed a spyglass from one of the staff officers. — It didn't kill him, and a dragon with one eye can....

The elven woman tossed aside her musket and ran forward, unsheathing her sword.

— What an idiot, — Jeanne said in a low voice.

Lytel jumped right on top of the wounded dragon's head, hung onto it, did something. "The second eye," Rosa realised. — "She stuck her sword in its second eye." The winged lizard shook its head like a madman and swept the elfess off its muzzle with a paw.

— No! — Rosa put down the spyglass, rushed to the stable where horse was waiting for her, but Jeanne grabbed her friend's arm. She shook her chin:

— You can't help. But others can.

Gritting her teeth, Rosa returned to her observation and saw what the warrior meant. Several hundred men, shooters and pikemen, forgetting their fear of the winged beast, rushed forward without orders from headquarters, without collusion. Shots rang out. And already the dragon, wounded, blinded, rolled away from the men, flapping its wings. The soldiers surrounded the place where the elf woman had fallen. The spearmen set up an irregular array of spades with their shafts in the ground, the musketeers and arquebusiers fired, showering the dragon with lead from three sides. Lytel was lifted up on an unfurled cloak, and four soldiers carried her back. The grey lizard returned, lowered himself to the ground, and covered his blind counterpart. Behind the dragons, the battalions of royal infantry were finishing their reorganisation. It was clear that the battle, if not lost, was certainly not won. The Black Guard was retreating in fighting order, almost unscathed, but it was unthinkable to attack Auguste's dragon-reinforced troops again. Toad circled the entrance to the gorge, taunting her opponent, but the scarlet lizard did not approach, fearful of the cannons hidden on the slopes.

— We'll... try again, — Marshal de Cotoci said gravely. He did not look at the ambassadors of the Republic, though it was clear that the commander was addressing them.

— How badly timed they are, — Boyarin Yuriev grinned. His companions remained silent. — In any case, your men fought well. I'll go to them.

— I'm with you. — Rosa hid the spyglass and nodded to Jeanne. This time she didn't object.

They found Lytel already on the path into the gorge. Although the road was packed with soldiers, a small escort made way for a makeshift stretcher on which four musketeers carried the Lady Captain. An army healer accompanied the procession. Rosa dismounted and ran up to them. She gasped, clasping her mouth with the palm of her hand.

— Who am I... hearing... — The elfess, lying on her back, opened her eyes. She looked for Rosa.

— I'm here. — The necromancer's apprentice reached out and froze, not knowing what to do. She was afraid to even touch the captain's body. The elf's face was intact, as were her legs. But both arms and torso... — Now, now.

She placed three fingers on Lytel's forehead, gently touching her mind. She began to draw out the pain, and immediately realised it was useless. If she took enough pain, to make the wounded feel better, Rosa herself, for all her resilience, would not be able to bear it. The girl could not imagine how the elf remained conscious, and even talking.

— It is a miracle of the One, master, but the captain's back is intact, — said the healer following the stretcher. The necromancer's apprentice couldn't remember his name, though she remembered his face. — The bones of her legs were intact, only a laceration on left thigh. The ribs are broken. There are two slash wounds on chest. Right arm broken in two places, left arm... you can see for yourself. Probably got clawed. The hand is sliced off, forearm shattered. Above the elbow, there's hope of saving...

— It would make a song, wouldn't it? — Lytel tried to smile, and surprisingly, she succeeded. The captain's bright violet eyes flashed. — Or a legend... about me.

— You bet. — Jeanne pushed the sorceress away and leaned over to the wounded woman. — Bards love stories about idiots lunging at a dragon with a sword.

— Good. — The Captain's face relaxed, she lowered her eyelids and breathed evenly.

— The sleeping potion has taken effect, — the healer said, visibly relieved. — Mater Rosa, the captain will be taken to her room. If you would come, I would be very grateful. Your help might...

— I'll be there, — Rosa interrupted. — There aren't many wounded soldiers, and the medics will be out quickly. I'll bring the best.

— Do you know what the most offensive thing is, madam? — Jeanne asked, glancing at the stretcher. She and Rosa returned to the horses that Yuriev was leading.

— What? — the sorceress asked tiredly.

— So many people saw that big-eared girl beat up a dragon. In both armies. — The guardswoman sighed, helping the girl into the saddle. — She would have it all — the song, the legend...

The day passed like a delirium — Rosa could barely remember what she'd been doing until after sunset. Mostly she was scrambling around the camp, gathering medics and medicine for Lytel. For hours on end, the Lady Captain was literally picked up piece by piece, setting bones and fixing fractures and stitching up wounds. The elven woman was covered with healing amulets, drugged with potions, and Rosa personally monitored her blood circulation and breathing. The hardest part was her left arm. At first it looked as if it would have to be taken off at the shoulder, but by incredible efforts the healers managed to save the elbow and part of the bone in front of it to make it easier to attach the prosthesis in the future. By the time the leading healer, not a mage but an experienced surgeon, said that the patient's life was not in danger, it was already dark in the Three Horns Gorge. Rosa stepped out of the blood and sweat stinking room onto the porch where Jeanne and Captain Utlt were sitting. The bearded elf was chewing some dried leaves and staring blankly into the night.