Crusade - James Lowder [74]
Bristling at the slightly veiled insult to his bravery, Torg whirled on the king.
"We fight only for good causes," the ironlord hissed. "I doubt any cause that draws scum like that to rally to it."
"Indeed," Alusair said from the shadows. "More than that, Father, it makes me wonder what you gave the Keep to secure their cooperation. I hope it was worth it."
"We're not talking about Zhentil Keep or my policies," Azoun snapped. He took a step toward Torg. "I have your word of honor that two thousand dwarves from Earthfast will stand against the Tuigan. Are you going to break that promise?"
The dwarves' actions indicated that they intended to do exactly that, but Torg hedged when confronted with the question. He mumbled something into his beard, then said, "You've broken your part of the bargain, Azoun."
Without hesitation, Vangerdahast pointed a finger at the ironlord. "Far from it," he said coldly. "King Azoun has not broken any such bargain; he offered you nothing in return for your troops but the honor of defending Faerun."
Alusair had moved to Torg's side during the exchange. She sheathed her sword and glared at her father. "This is all political rhetoric. It isn't dishonorable to refuse to fight on the side of… of murdering animals."
Clenching his teeth, Azoun forced back the growing rage he felt within him.
"By that logic, Allie," he said flatly, "you'd fight for the horsewarriors just because they oppose the orcs. That's foolish."
Alusair put her hands on her hips. "But it isn't-"
"No, Princess," Torg grumbled, putting a hand on Alusair's arm. "Your father is right." The ironlord narrowed his eyes and studied the Cormyrian king for a moment. "I want retribution for the soldiers who were slain."
"That's reasonable," Azoun conceded. He looked at Alusair, but she would not meet his gaze.
"And I will not allow the orcs to travel with my troops," Torg added. "You will take them down the coast in your ships. We will march the rest of the way and meet you in Thesk."
Azoun had known from the start that the troops from Earthfast would not travel by boat. Some clans of dwarves preferred to keep in contact with the earth, the source of their prosperity, the sustainer of their mining cities. The king suddenly realized that Torg's demand that the orcs be taken to Telflamm by ship was, in fact, something the dwarf could tell his generals he received as a concession from the humans. Though he hadn't yet discussed it with the ironlord, Azoun had intended taking the Zhentish troops aboard his ships from the start.
The king nodded. "Your demands are fair, Ironlord. I will transport the orcs."
"This is all rather absurd," Vangerdahast said. "Why is the dwarven army walking all that way when we could easily provide transport for them, too?"
"You may understand magic, wizard," Torg replied, turning his back on Vangerdahast, "but you don't understand dwarves. I gave my word to fight, so I will honor that." He paused and rattled his birdcage. "To ask my troops to travel by sea is to ask them not to be dwarves."
A dwarven officer entered the tent and kneeled. "We'll be ready to leave by highsun," he reported.
Pausing for only an instant, Torg said, "Tell the troops to prepare for the march south."
The officer started to speak, then thought better of it and stood. "By your command, Ironlord," he said and spun sharply on his heels.
When the officer was gone, Torg sighed. "We can set up the logistics of the march later. Now, I want Vrakk to give me the orcs responsible for the deaths of my soldiers."
Within minutes, Azoun, Vangerdahast, Torg, and Alusair found themselves once again in the field to the east of camp. The sun was high over the hills, close to its zenith. A group of five hundred or so dwarves stood at attention in the hot sun, adorned in full armor. The orcs sprawled on the ground, shielding their faces from the bright sunshine with rat-eaten cloaks, packs, or whatever else they could find. At the center of this ragtag group,