Cormyr_ a novel - Ed Greenwood [48]
When she looked up, two sets of concerned eyes were looking a silent question at her. Neither man was going to ask a princess of the realm if a need of nature was all that had brought her here, but they had already sensed it was something more.
Alusair sighed. They were riding into battle, this was something her men needed to know. "I had something of a… vision," she said carefully, "from the Royal Magician. You know he laid tracing spells on both my sister and me when we were babes."
"To prevent kidnappings," Brace said, nodding.
"To let my mother find us when we wandered off," she offered, quoting the official reason with derisive amusement clear in her tone.
"Aye. So we've heard," Threldryn prompted.
She gave him a brief glare and continued. "Something of a link remains… unreliable, and weak, but… something. Through it, he contacted me-unintentionally, I believe."
"And in this vision, you saw…?" Brace asked hesitantly.
"Something that might be a secret of the realm or might not. I'd know which right now if two overinquisitive noblemen hadn't interrupted me at precisely the wrong moment!" she snapped.
"My apologies, Lady Highness," the two men mumbled in unison, holding out her gauntlets and blades.
Their commander took them and waved a dismissive hand as she swung into her saddle. "I shan't slap your wrists for doing your duty. You had your orders, and the one who gave them was thinking of the safety of Cormyr, no doubt. The fault's not w-"
As she spoke they rounded the rocks, and the noise of the war cries reached them. She broke off speaking to stare, at first puzzled, then angry. Below the three riders, a small band of orcs was fleeing into a steep-valed wash, the cream of Cormyr's young nobles pouring after them in a headlong rush, shouting enthusiastic cries. Alusair and her "trail hounds" could see movement along the sides of the vale. More orcs, waiting for the humans to come surging into their waiting and weapon-laden arms.
Alusair bellowed, "Beldred, you fool! It's a trap!" and raked the flanks of her mount in frantic haste, screaming at it for speed.
The two noblemen, Threldryn and Brace, found themselves galloping hard after her, hearts in their throats, before they quite knew what had happened.
The trap was sprung before Alusair was halfway to the charging nobles. From the walls of valley magical lightning flashed, the thunderous boom rolling along the steep walls. Bright-armored figures danced in their saddles at the stroke of the bolt, their arms and legs jerking spasmodically, their weapons flying from hands that could no longer grip anything. Those men who survived the assault shouted in alarm and fought to control their rearing or bolting horses. The retreating orcs turned, practically under those flying hooves, and began to inflict vicious slaughter with their blades. More horses screamed and went down.
A furious Alusair snatched out her saddle horn and blew. The high, clear call rang back off the rocky heights: the retreat. Heads turned as the proud young knights of Cormyr heard their commander's signal and pulled back on their reins in disbelief… or relief, depending on their wisdom. Those whose horses would respond turned and streamed back out of the valley, followed by the hoarse jeers of triumphant orcs.
Alusair roared like Azoun himself as she rode to meet them. "Is charging all you dolts know how to do? Beldred, couldn't you tell the valley had all the makings of a trap?"
"I couldn't have stopped them if I'd tried, Lady Highness," the bloodied Beldred Truesilver replied wearily, "but I must admit, I did not try. Who could expect a few orcs to be able to hurl a lightning bolt?"
Alusair flung up her hands in exasperation. "No wonder they don't let you handsome swashcloaks out unchaperoned! You all seem to keep your brains in your sword scabbards!"
Alusair looked at the valley mouth and muttered a curse. "I'd tell you to regroup back at those hillocks, but the orcs will slaughter anyone downed by the bolt if we do. We have to go after our fallen