Crusade - James Lowder [84]
Alusair focused her mind on the sound of the wizard's voice, and the buzz in her ears vanished. Ah, there you are, Allie, she heard her father say happily.
She could almost picture Azoun, sitting in his tent with Vangerdahast, hovering over some scrying mirror or crystal ball. Without realizing it, the princess pictured her father five years younger, more as she remembered him from their days in Suzail. His brown beard was less sprinkled with silver, and the deep wrinkles around his eyes were barely noticeable.
We can see you, Princess, but the ring will only allow you to hear us, Vangerdahast explained. As long as youI'm sure she's figured out how this works by now, Azoun said, abruptly ending the wizard's lecture. There was a brief but pregnant silence, then the king said, Where are you, Allie? How are Torg's troops holding up?
Alusair quickly and succinctly reported on the dwarven army's disposition.
At the rate we're moving, the princess concluded, we should meet up with you in about twenty-five days.
That soon? Azoun asked, surprise evident in his voice.
We're about halfway to the meeting spot ourselves, with two more tendays march ahead of us. I was hoping to have some time to drill the troops before we met up.
You'll have about five days, then, Father, the princess thought. A short silence followed, so Alusair assumed there was nothing more to say. With little prelude, she bid her father and Vangerdahast good night and pulled the ring from her finger. The light from the gold ring faded, then winked out.
Studying the expertly engraved dragon on the signet, Alusair rose to her feet. The falcon overhead cried out, and the princess looked up to see it diving toward the trees. The bird shrieked again. This time, however, Alusair thought she heard a shrill whistle from the forest answer the cry.
Now a dark speck against the darker sky, the falcon disappeared into the trees. Alusair paused for a moment and narrowed her eyes in an attempt to see into the murky outline of the woods. After a time, she dismissed the whistle as a product of her imagination or an aftereffect of the spell. With a single glance over her shoulder, she turned from Lethyr Forest and made her way to her bed.
The next day started warm, bright, and sunny-in fact, a rather typical day for the early summer month of Kythorn-but an almost palpable uneasiness hung over the dwarven camp. Alusair learned from Torg that the sentries had reported possible movement by mounted troops at the edge of the wood during the night. The ironlord had passed word through the ranks that every soldier was to be prepared for battle, and the princess assumed correctly that this was the source of the army's restlessness.
Despite Torg's orders, Alusair didn't wear her armor that day, donning instead a clean doublet, rough leather leggings, and high leather boots. She found it far easier to march dressed that way, though perspiration still plastered her short blond hair to her head. The ironlord scowled at Alusair, but made no comment on her dress.
Clouds rolled across the sky far to the south as the dwarves began their march, but the sun still shone cheerily overhead. Torg paid little attention to the fine weather, forcing his soldiers to march through their noon meal. They stopped at dusk, and as soon as the column halted to set up camp, soldiers spotted a horseman leaving Lethyr Forest.
At least he appeared to be a mounted rider from a long way off. As the creature got closer, Torg was surprised to find that a centaur, not a man, raced toward the dwarves at a full gallop. He carried a banner in one hand and seemed to be unarmed.
"Load bows!" Torg growled. A young dwarf at his side dipped the ironlord's standard. The standard-bearers for each clan mirrored the movement, and all along the column, packs were dropped and crossbows cranked to the ready.
Alusair, too, dropped her pack, but she didn't draw a weapon. Centaurs were often very