Crusade - James Lowder [62]
The dwarven captains who were scattered throughout the field signaled to soldiers carrying large drums. The drummers beat a fast, chaotic riff, and the army rushed into a long line, three dwarves deep. As the soldiers in the front rank knelt and planted their pikes in a defensive wall, the back two ranks quickly drew and cocked heavy crossbows. The dwarves made it look easy, but the strength required to ready a crossbow would have made it practically impossible for human armies to accomplish that maneuver in so short a time.
Torg beamed with pride. He raised a hand, signaling the captains again, and a new cadence was sounded. The dwarven troops disarmed their crossbows, slung the heavy weapons on their belts, and regained their pikes.
The drumbeat changed yet again, and the troops broke into four large squares, twenty dwarves wide by twenty dwarves deep. The edges of each square bristled with pikes.
Azoun, almost caught up in the display of amazing military training, saw that Torg was looking at him, obviously waiting for a compliment.
"Impressive," the Cormyrian king said at last. "Perhaps you can give our troops a few pointers."
The ironlord laughed, a deep bellowing sound that seemed to echo in his chest before breaking into the world. "Indeed," he said, giving Azoun a solid slap on the back. Vangerdahast concluded then and there that he didn't like the ruler of Earthfast very much at all.
Torg ordered the troops to resume the regular drills. With a rumble of drums and the clatter of armor, the squares broke into marching columns.
Satisfied with the display, the ironlord led his guests toward a pavilion at the heart of the dwarven camp. As they walked through the tent city, both Azoun and Vangerdahast were amazed at the absolute order of the place. Not only were the tents arrayed in straight lines, but gear was stored in neat piles and even the inevitable garbage dump was kept contained in a tidy, square enclosure.
The dwarven camp was like none Azoun had ever seen or even heard about. He suddenly wished Thom Reaverson had come along. The bard would have found the place fascinating.
"I have yet to hear from the troops your allies in Zhentil Keep are sending,"
Torg said as he entered the pavilion. The king winced slightly at being called an "ally" of the Keep, but, in this instance the term was accurate.
"They should have been here by now," Vangerdahast noted as he sat at a low, long table. "In fact, they should have reached here more than a day or two ago… if Zhentil Keep is honoring the agreement."
Vangerdahast's concern was not lost on Azoun. The king ran a hand through his gray-shot beard and sighed. If Zhentil Keep broke the treaty, it might mean they intended to invade the Dales. In truth, the king realized, they could be attacking even as he sat there, pondering the point. "I should contact the queen," he told the wizard. "She might have heard something recently."
"You'll have time for that in a bit," Torg said, scowling at the reference to the wizard's magic. "I'll send some scouts to the north and west. That'll do for now." He took three brightly polished silver mugs from a metal case and set them on the table. He turned his dark eyes to the pavilion's door and yelled something in Dwarvish.
A smartly liveried squire rushed into the tent, carrying a large wooden keg.
The dwarf's beard was short and, unlike Torg, his face was almost free of deep-set wrinkles. Azoun assumed the servant was very young, but he always found it extremely difficult to estimate a dwarf's age.
"Drink," Torg said, opening a silver spout in the keg and filling the mugs. He handed one to Azoun and the other to Vangerdahast, then hefted the third and raised it in a toast. "To the complete destruction of the Tuigan. May the corpses of the horsewarriors reach to the sky!"
"Indeed," Vangerdahast said weakly, rather appalled at the crass toast.
Azoun repeated Torg's toast more enthusiastically. The dwarf's bellicose oath brought back memories of Azoun's time with the King's Men, promising over mugs of ale