Darkwalker on Moonshae - Douglas Niles [9]
Grunnarch sailed to the Iron Keep, fortress of Thelgaar Ironhand on Oman’s isle. Central among the Moonshae Islands, the keep had a fine deep harbor and, more importantly, the fortress of the northmen’s most powerful king, Thelgaar Ironhand. From Iron Keep, the northmen could reach Moray, Gwynneth, or Callidyr – all the lands of the Ffolk. The divided kingdoms of the Ffolk practically begged to be raided. If Thelgaar, with his huge fleet and battle-hardened army, decided to join the campaign, there would be no limit to the summer’s potential.
And indeed, two days before landfall, masts were sighted upon the northern horizon. In a matter of hours, Grunnarch recognized the blue whale insignia of Raag Hammerstaad, king of the Norheim Isles. Raag also sailed with many ships. Grunnarch wondered how many other kingdoms might decide to join the warlike throng this summer.
The two fleets merged, and the wind freshened. A hundred ships coursed through the waves, all intent upon Oman harbor. Soon the rocky outline of the island broke the southeast horizon. Grunnarch’s vessel in the lead, the fleet filed around the promontory that protected the harbor. Grunnarch grunted in pleasure at the scene in the harbor.
The hundred ships of Thelgaar lined part of the shore of the harbor. In addition to the Iron King’s warships were those of many other kingdoms, already arrived and arrayed for war.
This would indeed be a summer of blood and plunder.
*****
The goddess shivered, and flinched. She felt her body growing numb – not from fear, but from a distant and wistful sadness. The feeling was remote, and she took no great notice of it. Gradually, though, she began to recognize the numbness for the dire threat it was.
With an effort, she forced herself to stir. Passivity now, she knew instinctively, would be fatal. The call she sent reverberated through the earth, thrumming deep within the mountains and hills, and even rolling along the bottorn of the sea.
Hoping that it was not too late, the goddess tried to awaken her children.
II
A PROPHECY
ERIAN STRODE RAPIDLY back through the gatehouse and down the road to the festival. He was anxious to return to the fun. Damn that little gamecock, anyway, he swore, thinking of the prince. I save his skin from that slithering spitball of a Calishite, and for what?
The big guard spat angrily into the dust, and felt a little better. He thought of Geoffrey the aleman, who would undoubtedly have several cool kegs tapped near a comfortable bench. With a dozen silver coins in his pocket, Erian would be able to drink all day and most of the night.
Geoffrey’s tent, bigger than most, also rose above the others like a beckoning tower. As Erian had guessed, the fat innkeeper offered uncorked kegs of light and dark ale, as well as thick Callidyrr mead. Splurging, the man-at-arms used one of his silver pieces to purchase a huge tankard of mead.
Turning from the bar, Erian surveyed the other occupants of the tent. Several northmen clustered nearby, drinking quietly. A young bard entertained a group of men and women, farmerffolk, in the far corner.
Then he saw the woman sitting quietly in the darkest corner of the tent. She regarded him with a bold, somewhat amused gaze – a gaze that Erian returned with interest. Her eyes flashed once, very quickly.
He saw that she wore peasant clothes, which seemed much too large for her. Nonetheless, the outlines of her body, he also noticed, stood out clearly against the casually wrinkled cloth, curving deliciously as though to scorn the plain raiment.
Staring, Erian somehow found himself standing before her. Even with her face still masked by shadow, she overwhelmed him. He sat before her, and slowly remembered where, and who, he was.
“My name is Erian,” he announced, feeling somehow proud of the fact that he was able to talk at all.
“I am… Meridith,” responded the woman. She blinked, and he noticed that her eyes were strangely vague, almost empty. Yet they had flashed at him from across the