Cormyr_ a novel - Ed Greenwood [130]
Aosinin thought he saw a small smile break across the elf lord's face. "I see the blood of Faerlthann runs thick and true in his descendants. Your first king had such fire, and his words were sharp, while those of Baerauble were cloying and tricky. It is pleasant to see that threats and bold speech, at least, have not changed. Am I not welcome to hunt within your woods?"
"You are welcome, Othorion Keove," said the king quickly. "Welcome as an old friend of the land. I apologize in advance for not keeping sufficiently dangerous creatures at hand for your return. I ask only that you trouble none of the citizens of this land, nor harm them in any way. For they, like the land, are in my trust, and I am obligated to protect them."
The elf nodded silently and the king continued. "If you will excuse me and my brethren, then, we must prepare for our own hunt on the morrow. There are few hours between now and then, and we must make the best use of them."
The elf lord nodded and raised a hand slowly in dismissal.
Thanderahast said quickly, "The battle tomorrow, O elf lord… we could use any aid you could muster."
A wintry smile twisted Othorion's lips. "The Witch Lords' representative has been here and gone already with a similar invitation, hedged with hidden threats and blatant promises. I will tell you what I told him: I am here for the hunting. But that one did give me a message for you, child of Baerauble. He said that Luthax sends his regards."
The mage's face went pale, and he stiffened visibly. Then he bowed low and joined the others in leaving the tent. None of the elves paid the grim, armored humans any attention.
The ride back was a time of low whispers. They did not talk of elves, but rather of the upcoming battle. Marsember had sent some desperately needed infantry, fresh but untried. They would stand on the left flank. The veteran Purple Dragons would hold the right, backed up by Thanderahast's apprentices. Arabel had sent troops, but even their marching was a shaky, undisciplined affair, they might well prove unreliable. Their ranks would be seasoned with veteran militia from Suzail and placed in the center, near the king and the main vanguard. Those nobles not leading specific units would be mounted and go into battle flanking the royal forces, behind the central troops.
They returned to the camp to find nothing amiss, though there had been activity and many fires in the Witch Lord encampments. The goblins and orcs in the necromancers' host preferred to fight in the dark, but the presence of human troops meant that they would have to wait until daylight.
The nobles congregated to confirm the battle plan one last time, then broke for the evening. The nobles who had brought their own units returned to their camps, and the wizards retired to their meditations. Soon only a handful were left.
Throughout, King Galaghard was mostly silent, marshaling his words as if they were strength, even after the others had dispersed. At length, he rose. "I want to check the perimeter one last time. Truesilver, walk with me."
Aosinin strode alongside the king, and the two paced in silence along the hard-packed earth. Finally Truesilver could contain himself no longer and asked, "Cousin, who is Luthax?"
The king looked out over the wide valley that come the dawn would be their battlefield. High fires blazed in the Witch Lords' camp, and he could imagine the orcs and ogres and trolls dancing about the flames. He said, "Luthax is an old rival of Thanderahast's, I believe, from before he became the High Wizard."
"I cannot imagine anything still being around from before Thanderahast was High Wizard," said Aosinin.
Galaghard