Their father frowned, and worry lines creased his brow.
"Did he say anything of me king's dragonriders?" Arguments or no, Hal was family.
"1 asked," Teri said. "He said the dragonriders are me rear guard. They're supposed to raid and bum, delay the enemy while our army pulls back safely. Oh, I hope Uncle Hal is safe!"
"Hal will show them," Geoff said. "Him and Brimstone will bum 'em all up."
Their father smiled. "Hal could always take care of himself. At any rate, there is nothing we can do. Teri, if any more messengers come through, ask them how it goes."
She nodded, her concern not quite covering her excitement. It was all quite thrilling.
In the weeks that followed, the thrill wore off, as the people of the area began to comprehend the magnitude of the disaster. The king's highway grew busier and busier, and all the traffic flowed from north to south, and all the travelers wore green-and-gold. At first the soldiers marched in disciplined columns, led by officers wearing plumed golden helmets, but even then they were less than stirring. The columns marched wearily, and the uniforms were filthy and torn, and the swords and pikes and axes the soldiers carried were nicked and oftimes stained. Some men had lost their weapons; they limped along blindly, empty-handed. And the trains of wounded that followed the columns were often longer than the columns themselves. Adara stood in the grass by the side of me road and watched them pass. She saw a man with no eyes supporting a man with only one leg, as the two of them walked together. She saw men with no legs, or no arms, or both. She saw a man with his head split open by an axe, and many men covered with caked blood and filth, men who moaned low in their throats as they walked. She smelted men with bodies that were horribly greenish and puffed-up. One of them died and was left abandoned by the side of the road, Adara told her father and he and some of the men from the village came out and buried him.
Most of all, Adara saw the burned men. There were dozens of them in every column that passed, men whose skin was black and seared and falling off, who had lost an arm or a leg or half of a face to the hot breath of a dragon. Ten told them what the officers said, when they stopped at the inn to drink or rest; the enemy had many, many dragons.
For almost a month the columns flowed past, more every day. Even Old Laura admitted that she had never seen so much traffic on the road. From time to time a lone messenger on horseback rode against the tide, galloping towards the north, but always alone. After a time everyone knew there would be no reinforcements.
An officer in one of the last columns advised the people of the area to pack up whatever they could carry, and move south- "They are coming," he warned. A few listened to him, and indeed for a week the road was full of refugees from towns farther north. Some of them told frightful stories.
When they left. more of the local people went with them.
But most stayed. They were people like her father, and the land was in their blood.
The last organized force to come down the road was a ragged troop of cavalry, men as gaunt as skeletons riding horses with skin pulled tight around their ribs. They thundered past in the night, their mounts heaving and foaming, and the only one to pause was a pale young officer, who reined his mount up briefly and shouted, "Go, go. They are burning everything!" Then he was off after his men.
The few soldiers who came after were alone or in small groups. They did not always use the road, and they did not pay for the things they look. One swordsman killed a farmer on the other side of town, raped his wife, stole his money, and ran. His rags were green-and-gold.
Then no one came at all. The road was deserted.
The innkeeper claimed he could smell ashes when the wind blew from the north. He packed up his family and went south. Ten was distraught. Geoff was wide-eyed and anxious and only a bit frightened. He asked a thousand questions about the enemy, and practiced at being a warrior. Their father went about his labors, busy as ever. War or no war, he had crops in the field. He smiled less than usual, however, and he began to drink, and Adara often saw him glacing up at the sky while he worked.
Adara wandered the fields above, played by herself in the damp summer heat, and tried to think of where she would hide if her father tried to take them away.
Last of all, the king's dragonriders came, and with them Hal.
There were only four of them. Adara saw me first one, and went and toid her father, and he put his hand on her shoulder and together they watched it pass, a solitary green dragon with a vaguely tattered look. It did not pause for mem.
Two days later, three dragons flying together came into view, and one of them detached itself from the others and circled down to their farm while the other two headed south.
Uncle Hal was thin and grim and sallow-looking. His dragon looked sick. Its eyes ran, and one of its wings had been partially burned, so it flew in an awkward, heavy manner, with much difficulty. "Now will you go?*' Hal said to his brother, in front of all the children.
"No. Nothing has changed."
Hal swore. "They will be here within three days," he said.
"Their dragonriders may be here even sooner."
"Father. I'm scared," Teri said.
He looked at her, saw her fear, hesitated, and finally turned back to his brother. "I am staying. But if you would, I would have you take the children."
Now it was Hal's turn to pause. He thought for a moment, and finally shook his head. "I can't, John. I would, willingly, joyfully, if it were possible. But it isn't. Brimstone is wounded. He can barely carry me. If I took on any extra weight, we might never make it."
Teri began to weep.
"I'm sorry, love," Hal said to her. "Truly I am." His fists clenched helplessly.
"Teri is almost full-grown," their father said. "If her weight is too much, then take one of the others.'"
Brother looked at brother, with despair in their eyes. Hal trembled. "Adara," he said finally. "She's small and light."
He forced a laugh. "She hardly weighs anything at all. I'll take Adara. The rest of you take horses, or a wagon, or go on foot. But go, damn you, go."
"We will see," their father said noncommittally. "You take Adara, and keep her safe for us."
"Yes," Hal agreed. He turned and smiled at her- "Come, child. Uncle Hal is going to take you for a ride on Brimstone-"
Adara looked at him very seriously. "No," she said. She turned and slipped through the door and began to run.
They came after her, of course, Hal and her father and even Geoff. But her father wasted time standing in the door, shouting at her to come back, and when he began to run he was ponderous and clumsy, while Adara was indeed small and light and fleet of foot. Hal and Geoff stayed with her longer, but Hal was weak, and Geoff soon winded himself, though he sprinted hard at her heels for a few moments. By the time Adara reached the nearest wheat field, the three of them were well behind her. She quickly lost herself amid the grain, and they searched for hours in vain while she made her way carefully towards the woods.
When dusk fell, they brought out lanterns and torches and continued their search. From time to time she heard her father swearing, or Hal calling out her name. She stayed high in the branches of the oak she had climbed, and smiled down at their lights as they combed back and forth through the fields.
Finally she drifted off to sleep, dreaming about the coming of winter and wondering how she would live until her birthday.
It was stilt a long time away.
Dawn woke her, dawn and a noise in the sky.
Adara yawned and blinked, and heard it again. She shinnied to the uppermost limb of the tree, as high as it would bear her, and pushed aside the leaves.
There were dragons in the sky.
She had never seen beasts quite like these. Their scales were dark and sooty, not green like the dragon Hal rode.
One was a rust color and one was the shade of dried blood and one was black as coal. All of them had eyes like glowing embers, and steam rose from their nostrils, and their tails flicked back and forth as their dark, leathery wings beat the air. The rust-colored one opened its mouth and roared, and the forest shook to its challenge, and even the branch that held Adara trembled just a little. The black one made a noise too, and when it opened its maw a spear of flame lanced out, all orange and blue, and touched the trees below. Leaves withered and blackened, and smoke began to rise from where the dragon's breath had fallen. The one the color of blood flew close overhead, its wings creaking and straining, its mouth half-open. Between its yellowed teeth Adara saw soot and cinders, and the wind stirred by its passage was fire and sandpaper, raw and chafing against her skin. She cringed.