A Dragon's Ascension - Ed Greenwood [35]
" DIV the of Craer walkers."Nothing but stray flies and fluttercloaks," the bard replied, from his post at the back, looking ever behind him.
Craer looked at Hawkril. "This is eerie. Unless there's a plague we've not heard about, or a dozen hungry dragons came foraging last night, the countryside shouldn't be nearly this empty."
The hulking armaragor spread his gauntlets in a helpless shrug. "Mayhap they saw you coming, and decided to hide what they hold most valuable."
Craer snorted. "In backcountry farms, that'd be a cow."
Sarasper shook his head. "Nay, Lord Overduke-when times are hard, the only valuable possession left to the farmer is himself."
The procurer made a rude, derisive sound. "So they all dragged trunks out of hidey-holes, leaped inside, locked the lids down, bumped themselves back into the holes, and caused the ready-heaped earth and turf to fall neatly back into place atop them, is that it?"
"Gently," Sarasper said soothingly, "and eyes front: I thought I saw something moving in the trees, yonder."
"I'll give you something moving in the trees yonder," Craer snarled, "in a breath or…"
His sour promise trailed away as they all saw it: a heavyset man in armor, stalking along through the forest with a drawn sword in hand. Lurching along, the warrior seemed to be alone… and that jowly, long-sideburned face looked familiar, somehow…
"Brightpennant!" Craer called. "Smiling Wolf!"
The man's head jerked up, and he peered through the trees at them. He'd obviously been following the line of the road without getting too close to it, or paying it overmuch attention. Now he came crashing down through the ferns and manythorn canes towards them, wearing a frown.
"Fair day, Overdukes," he greeted them. "Have you seen a young fool of a bard running this way?"
Four heads turned to look at Raulin, who stared at Glarsimber of Sart in puzzlement.
The baron lifted an eyebrow and spoke directly to the lad. "Well, have you?"
"This one's a bard," Sarasper explained, jerking a thumb in Raulin's direction.
Glarsimber's brows drew together. "Nay, nay-'tis Flaeros Delcamper I'm looking for! This lad's a bard, too?"
"Well-my father was," Raulin said quietly. "What befalls, Lord Baron?"
Glarsimber looked quickly from the young lad to the overdukes; Embra smiled and murmured, "Pray speak freely. We've no secrets between us-or betwixt us and the regent, for that matter. What befalls?"
The Baron of Brightpennant frowned. "A lot of things, but one over all: the hires word men call Bloodblade has whelmed an army, and marches on Flowfoam as we speak, to crown himself King of Aglirta-over the bodies of all who stand against him."
Several jaws dropped. "Pardon, Glarsimber," Craer said sharply, "but-you've seen the warlord with your own eyes?"
The baron shook his head. "No, and I can scarce believe it myself. Yet I trust the one I heard it from."
"Who was?" Sarasper asked promptly.
Glarsimber of Sart looked uncomfortable. "King Kelgrael himself," he replied, leaning close to them and lowering his voice. "Like a ghost, mind-flickering like, a candle-flame, and I could see through him all the while."
"That would be the king, aye," Hawkril said slowly, shaking his head in disbelief-and dismay. How could so much have gone wrong in the Vale so swiftly? What was so amiss about this realm he loved, and called home, and now served? An usurper-seen by the Risen King and yet not by us? How could this be?
He and the rest of the overdukes traded frowns, and there were several other headshakings.
"Pardon, Lords," Raulin ventured, "but why look you so puzzled? You believe the Lord Baron, and yet believe not his news?"
Craer's answering grin was entirely empty of humor. "Right, lad- exactly."
Sarasper added, "You see, mercenaries don't act this way. Why stick your head into