Crusade - James Lowder [95]
The surviving scout-a Cormyrian captain-sat at the center of the tent, surrounded by Azoun, Farl Bloodaxe, Brunthar Elventree, and Lord Harcourt.
A cleric was examining some lacerations on the soldier's forehead, but the captain continued to speak as salves were dabbed into his wounds and bandages wrapped around his head.
"They're monsters, Your Highness," he said just as Thom entered the tent with Vangerdahast. The captain glanced around nervously. "When we met their scouts, Kyrok- that's the Theskan you sent with me-he told them we were delivering a message to their leader. They laughed, but took us into their camp."
The cleric handed the soldier a vial of pale amber liquid to drink, which he did quickly. Without another pause, he continued his report in an excited tone.
He told a grim tale of how Yamun Khahan, whom he depicted as little more than a raving madman, treated the emissaries with scorn. And when the Theskan soldier had refused to drink a sour-smelling, milky white liquid, fearing poison, the khahan and his generals had grown furious. The Theskan was beheaded on the spot.
"One of the Red Wizards from Thay was at the meeting. The khahan's historian and his generals, too," the soldier noted hurriedly. "They were all savages." He bowed his head. "I'm sorry to have failed you, Your Highness. I think the only reason they let me live was to deliver that message."
"And their troop strength?" Azoun asked softly.
The soldier shrugged. "At least one hundred thousand. Probably more.
Their scouts took us straight to the khahan, and we didn't really see all that much of the camp."
After a brief silence, Azoun dismissed the wounded soldier and the cleric.
The generals scattered to various seats throughout the pavilion, while Thom took up his customary observer position near the door.
"Sorry I was late, Your Highness. Did the khahan send any message back with the captain?" Vangerdahast asked after everyone had settled down.
The wizard noted the frowns that quickly took root on the faces of the other military leaders. Azoun caught Vangerdahast's eyes with his own and held the wizard's gaze for an instant. That was long enough for Vangerdahast to guess what the khahan wanted-and what the king's reply would be.
"The captain gave me the message before you arrived, Vangy. Yamun Khahan wants me to come to his camp." Azoun laced his fingers together before him and paced around the tent. "He promises my safety and says that the only way to avoid 'the utter slaughter of my armies and the destruction of my lands' is to meet with him in person."
Vangerdahast frowned now, too, though his expression was deeper and more pained than the other generals'. For an instant, he considered taking back the kind things he'd said about Azoun in his letter to Filfaeril, then dismissed the idea as petty. "And you're going."
This last wasn't so much a question as a statement. Everyone in the pavilion had served with King Azoun long enough to know that he would accept Yamun Khahan's invitation.
The rain stopped some time during the night, and early the next morning, over the objections of all his advisors, King Azoun set out for the enemy's camp. He knew he'd be in danger, but that was of little concern. He'd never have proposed the crusade if he feared death. No, Azoun realized that this was the last peaceful alternative to open conflict in his dealings with the khahan.
The king was realist enough to know that a friendly outcome to the meeting was unlikely. All he really hoped was that Vangerdahast could keep him safe with magic so he could stall the Tuigan horde for one more day. With any delay, Torg's dwarves might have a chance to finally join up with the rest of the Alliance. The king realized, in the battle that was almost sure to begin before the tenday was out, he'd need all the support he could muster.
Vangerdahast, Thom Reaverson, and an elite guard of fifty men rode with the king, most on horses borrowed from