A Dragon's Ascension - Ed Greenwood [10]
"You're wise, Tharim," the warlord said with a cold smile, "and prudent. You may live, if you serve me diligently in one small service: tell the armaragors of Glarond I'm their lord now. Baron of Glarond, if you must. Oh, and tell them one more thing: their warlord bids them arm, make ready for war, and report here two nightfalls hence, ready to ride."
"Aye, Lord Bloodblade. Ready to ride." The old warrior rose, then hesitated, waiting.
Duthjack's wintry smile widened. "No, I'm not going to tell you where. Just say: we ride to war."
The guardsman nodded. "Hunting barons along the way," he murmured, trying an unsteady smile of his own.
Bloodblade smiled even more coldly. "Prudence is always overrated, find you not so?"
As Tharim muttered a hasty, "Yes, Lord," and turned away, his tremblings visibly returned.
Chapter Two
Saddle Deep in Adventure
The figure behind the tree leaned closer, trying not to miss a single murmur or indrawn breath of the doings in the road below. Flies were already buzzing above the heaped, ragdoll bodies of the bowmen-and the lightning that had slain them still curled around the hands of the wizard who stood in the road.
" DIV the and of in where their…?"Wizards?" the handsome young man sneered. "I think we all want peace and good rulership, healer. And bows were always better bent to take deer for the table, not men's lives." Nudging the nearest dead archer with his foot, he added, "Yet mayhap these would also claim, if they lived, that they stood to keep the peace, under the orders of a wise and just ruler-and what is there to choose between you? You are but four who swagger like brigands, while they are many, someone's command belike… and in these days of overdukes and regents, I cannot believe that rebel armies tramp Aglirta!"
"Who are you," Sarasper asked quietly, "to mock us?"
Hawkril snarled in urgent pain, then, and both wizard and healer turned their heads and watched the armaragor wrench an arrow forth. A gush of dark blood followed, and Hawk slumped over onto his side in the road, rocking back and forth and groaning.
Sarasper settled Embra gently back amid the ferns, rose, and went to Hawkril.
"Stay where you are!" the wizard snapped, raising a spark-spitting hand.
Sarasper knelt by his stricken friend, and said calmly, "Healing is what I do, Sir Mage. The many folk I've aided down the years, and the many more I may live to heal in years ahead, can all only hope that blasting all who don't obey you isn't the only thing you do."
With fingers drenched in Hawkril's blood, he fumbled for the straps and buckles of the armaragor's shoulder-plate.
"Attend me, healer!" The wizard's voice was sharp with anger. "I am Jhavarr Bowdragon, and-"
Sarasper lifted his head to look into the mage's eyes, and nodded. "You've come to Aglirta to avenge the murder of your sister," he said softly. "At the hands of a wizard, I might add."
Bright lightnings raged briefly around two clenched fists, and faded. The mage drew in a deep, shuddering breath, then said calmly, as if discussing the unremarkable weather of some days back, "You see things rightly, healer. Cathaleira Bowdragon was the most able living mage of all our family, and we two were-close. We farspoke often, and I know well that she came to love her master here in Aglirta. Yet so far as my magic can learn, she was butchered by his hands, and her sentience made part of a monster of his making. This I can scarce believe, and yet…"
Jhavarr's voice gathered strength again as he snapped, "Yet I've also learned that you Four helped slay that beast, sending my sister into the cold, endless sleep that none return from!"
Sarasper sighed.
"Someone has told you false: we did not," the healer explained. "Those who hacked it down also sought our deaths that night. Tharlorn of the Thunders betrayed your sister, yes-growing jealous and over-wary of her growing skill at sorcery, I doubt not. Forgive the blunt saying of this, but he cut open her body like a Sirl fishmonger