Cormyr_ a novel - Ed Greenwood [106]
Duar had truly become King of the Forest Country, a refugee hiding in the broad expanse of the King's Forest. The orcs and goblins soon learned that this was not a land to settle in and retreated to the north. The dragons, too, had gone, returning to whatever slumber engulfed them after a rampage. And while Magrath the Minotaur put a price on Duar's head higher than what he'd paid for Suzail itself, he had few takers among the fearful common folk.
The common folk. Crownsilver shook her head at the thought. Entire hand counts of noble families switched sides at the drop of a crown. Cities like Arabel declared their independence with fickle regularity. But the common folk, the people in the farms and the villages and isolated homesteads, they always rallied around their king. Their group might be battered and beaten, looking little better than the brigands who now prowled the road from Suzail to Arabel. Yet one look at their grim king always brought out the best food and hidden weapons and the secret supplies. Despite threats and bribes, the common folk stood by their king.
And finally they heard some good news. Word came from her cousin, Agrast Huntsilver, that the High Horn had fallen into their hands, and the military units there were willing to throw in with the king. But only if Duar could produce a victory, and produce it fast. Crownsilver, His Majesty, and the mage frowned over the maps for all one long day before choosing the site of the attack. It was central to the kingdom, lightly guarded, and, most importantly, it was held by a noble family that had thrown in with Magrath's pirates: House Dheolur.
Elvarin frowned in the darkness. Duar's own grandfather had elevated the Dheolurs to nobility, and they'd spent the next three generations plotting and planning and scheming. They gained the right to put their stockaded settlement in the heart of the forest, and then did everything in their power to undermine the crown. When Suzail was seized, House Dheolur swore fealty to Magrath in an instant.
There was a noise in the distance, no more than the snapping of a twig. Everyone stiffened at the sound but Amedahast. The wizard stood up silently and looked in the direction of the noise. She had elven blood in her veins, but of late, Elvarin was sure it was ice water. Rumor had it that some Cormyrean noble had broken her heart at a young age. Elvarin just hoped for her sake that said noble was not a Crownsilver, Amedahast looked like a woman who held grudges.
Everyone held his breath for a moment as something moved at the opposite edge of the glade. A lone man appeared, moving cautiously. He was dressed in a cotton blouse and patched woolen pants, and his unkempt gray hair jutted in all directions from beneath a shapeless cap. He held an unlit lantern in his hand. He was clearly visible in the moonlight, as were they.
The old farmer waved the unlit lantern slowly.
Amedahast duplicated the motion in return, and the farmer limped forward, smiling.
Duar arose from where he'd been sitting. Upon seeing the king's face, the old farmer threw himself to his knees in respect. The king walked up to him and knelt as well, taking the old man by the shoulder and lifting him to his feet. Crownsilver had seen this many times now. Duar had become very good at it, and it sealed the loyalty of the peasants he embraced so. The touch of a king still held great power.
The two engaged in a conversation of hushed whispers. Amedahast and Crownsilver reached them at the same moment.
"Magrath is there," said Duar, smiling.
"So our information was correct," said Amedahast solemnly.
"Aye," said the farmer. "He's a hulking beast, Sire, with horns long as my arms. He's got his men up there, as well. They're in the main feast hall, and will be for the next several hours. There are a lot of them."
"So the victory will be that much sweeter," said Duar.
"You knew?" said Elvarin. "You knew Magrath would be here?"
"We suspected," said Amedahast.