Crusade - James Lowder [59]
"the Tuigan don't like magic very much at all. In fact, their permanent capitalif you can call a tent city a capital-is set up in a magic-dead area. Spells won't work there." The mage had stroked his beard then and looked wistfully at the flickering lantern. "A few well-placed lightning bolts ought to shake them up quite a bit."
Azoun leaned on the base of a mast. He laughed to himself, thinking of the gleam that shone in Vangerdahast's eyes whenever he spoke of using spells against the horsewarriors. Azoun was sure that his old friend was getting at least a little caught up in the adventure of the crusade.
In fact, from what the king had seen during the sail from Suzail, the entire army seemed to be growing more excited, more enthusiastic about the campaign. The Welleran had come close to many other transport ships during the trip across the Inner Sea. Every time the flagship got near enough that another vessel could see she flew King Azoun's standard, she was welcomed with cheers of greeting.
That joyous sound kept Azoun's spirits buoyed through the quiet trip along the coast that day, and the king's growing confidence in his army began to show in his demeanor. He spent little time during the night worrying about the battles to come. Instead, he thought about his wife and wondered how she was faring back in Suzail. Before he went to sleep, he resolved to have Vangerdahast contact Filfaeril as soon as possible, once the supplies were delivered.
Vangerdahast even noticed that Azoun seemed relaxed and well rested on the morning they reached their rendezvous point, on the northern shore of the Easting Reach, just south of the port town of Uthmerg.
"Why so animated this day, Your Highness?" the royal wizard asked as he watched the king briskly pace back and forth at the rail.
"I am happy because our goal is almost in sight," Azoun told the mage. He stopped pacing, then pointed east to the tall-grassed, rolling hills that stretched away from the shore. "And King Torg is sure to be ready to join our army by now."
The wizard squinted toward the shore. The choppy, shallow water prevented the Welleran and the two ships accompanying her from getting closer than a few hundred yards from the beach's dark sand. "Then I suggest we get a move on. Do you see any envoys yet?"
Now the king scanned the dark shoreline, too, but saw nothing save a few white birds running in the surf. "No. You contacted them already, didn't you, Vangy?"
"Hours ago," the wizard sighed. He rubbed his chin, then nodded. "If you have no objections, Azoun, I'll have us in the dwarves' camp in a few moments."
With that, the royal magician fell silent and noiselessly mouthed an incantation. His eyes rolled back in his head, revealing milky white orbs. "That will do nicely," Azoun heard the mage mumble. His voice sounded hollow, as if it were coming from a great distance. Before long, Vangerdahast closed his eyes, then shook his head briskly.
"I've located the camp, and I think I've spotted a fine location for us to teleport to. We'd best move right away, however." The wizard grabbed Azoun's wrists. "Don't want some fool dwarf to park a horse or a cart there."
"Farl," the king called. When the general appeared from a hatch nearby, Azoun said, "The escort hasn't shown up, so we're going ahead to the camp.
We'll send word as soon as the dwarves are ready to receive their supplies."
The ebony-skinned man nodded, then asked, "Is there anything else I should do while you're gone?"
"Just keep the ship afloat," Vangerdahast said quickly. "Come, Your Highness, we really can't dawdle."
Azoun swallowed and clenched his teeth. "Let's get it over with, Vangy."
The king had complete faith in his friend. Still, the gruesome stories he'd heard about mages mistakenly teleporting into stones or trees, or ending up hundreds of yards above the ground after the spell, made Azoun nervous.
Again Vangerdahast fell into a rapid, rumbling chant. A brilliant yellow light flashed into existence around the king and the wizard.