Crusade - James Lowder [133]
Still numb from the surprise, Azoun looked out over the lines. Some of the men were sleeping, their heads covered to block out the weak sunlight.
Morningfeast occupied most of the troops, but a few nervous men and women checked and rechecked the palisades and ditches. "They're all good soldiers," he said.
"Idiots, you mean," Vangerdahast corrected sharply. He looked away, still shaking his head. "I'm going to review the War Wizards."
Alusair looked up from the parchment. "None of the wizards left either," she reminded the mage. "Does that make them idiots, too?"
Vangerdahast stopped short and wheeled around. "Having your father needle me is enough," he snapped. He shook a finger at the princess, then his features softened. "Gods, your whole family exists only to shorten my life.
Anyway, I never even bothered to count the War Wizards," he noted as he turned away again.
"Wait, Vangy," Azoun said, taking a few steps forward. "Why not?"
Without turning around again, Vangy held up his palsied left hand. "They know that I'd come back from the grave to haunt them all if they left me here to fight the Tuigan alone." He shuffled past the barricades and disappeared into the western army.
"I believe he might," Alusair said to herself. She rolled the parchment up and stuffed it into her belt. "I'll give the numbers to Thom for the chronicles, Father."
The king was still looking in the direction where Vangerdahast had disappeared. "I couldn't make him stay in Cormyr, you know," he said absently.
"Who?" Alusair asked, moving to her father's side. "Vangy?"
Azoun nodded. "I wanted him to stay in Suzail in case there was trouble.
Someone else could have commanded the War Wizards." The king shook his head as he remembered the mage's vehement defense of his position as general. "Sometimes I don't understand why."
"Because he's your friend," Alusair offered.
"He's been like a father to me, too," noted Azoun. He looked out across the Golden Way. "Gods, how he didn't want me to lead this crusade. He was so unreasonable."
Alusair laughed. "Fathers are like that," she said and headed off to find Thom Reaverson.
The king, who was already wearing the padded doublet and chain mail coif that went under his plate armor, decided it was time to fully arm himself. As he donned the rest of his shining silver armor, Azoun took reports from returning scouts. At first they had little to tell, but soon it became clear that the Tuigan were on the move again.
"Send for Vrakk and Torg," Azoun told one messenger. He slipped his surcoat over his breastplate so that the purple dragon reared squarely on his chest. Finally, he looked to the standard-bearer. "Signal the troops into position."
The king's standard rose high into the air. The effect the purple dragon symbol had on the army was astonishing. A murmur ran over the mass of troops, and those still sleeping were quickly roused. Armor was donned and weapons gathered. Archers planted their bunches of arrows point first in the ground at their feet, making them easy to pick up in battle. Wizards reviewed spells in their minds, and soldiers softly recited prayers to their gods. The men who hadn't eaten morningfeast grabbed their meals of hard biscuits and dried meat and rushed to their place in line. Captains and sergeants began to prowl the ranks, shouting orders and arranging the troops in the strongest formations possible.
The dwarven king appeared at Azoun's side. Like Azoun, Torg was dressed in his full plate armor. Whereas the Cormyrian monarch's short beard was tucked into the chin of his mail coif, the ironlord's hung down across his chest, bound as always in gold chain. The finely polished metal of the dwarf's armor and the gold entwined in his beard gave off a dull reflection of the morning sunlight.
"By your request, Azoun," Torg rumbled happily. "I'm ready for battle." As if to