Death of the Dragon - Ed Greenwood [31]
Heads nodded agreement as the Steel Princess raised her hand and looked around. "Ready all?" she asked.
A breath or two later, she brought her hand chopping down. "Then forward!"
The orcs seemed to melt away like smoke before the wind of their charge. The Cormyreans broke through a small thicket onto a ridge that overlooked a small, deep bowl valley. Its depths held a mud castle akin to the ones many in the force had seen before.
"Gods!" one of them swore. "How is it that these things can be built in our own marches, and us not know?"
"A fortress!" another growled in disbelief. "A bloody tusker castle!"
Orcs in plenty could be seen on the slopes of the valley and on the spiraling ramparts of the mud tower, which was gray wherever it wasn't a sickly fresh dung color. It rose untidily out of a muddy moat, rock rubble strewn around it. The tower might have been raised the day before, or might have been older than the king.
"Has anyone among us traveled these hills before?" Azoun asked, almost absently.
He was answered only by uneasy silence, until his daughter growled, "What does it matter? We know what we have to do."
As if her words had been a signal, the ghazneth that Luthax the War Wizard had become circled the mud tower almost lazily, slipping out of one of the structure's many gaping, arched windows to plunge back into another. It was almost a taunt.
"I've no love for these mud fortresses," the king said flatly, "but a lair we came seeking, and a lair we've found. Let our swords strike for Cormyr!"
"For Cormyr!" came a ragged shout in reply.
The small force trotted down into the valley, steel rang on steel, and again the slaughter began.
9
It was what had become a typical morning in the courtyard of the Arabellan Palace. Walls rumbled to the sound of passing plague wagons, the air was laced with smoke from the wildfires outside the city, and cobblestones rang to the bark-and-clang of drill sergeants training recruits to meet the orc menace in the north. Beyond the lowered portcullis women begged gruel for hungry children, madmen trumpeted the world's end, and clouds of flies droned over carts of food spoiling faster than it could be shared. The scene was much the same across all of northern Cormyr. If the ghazneths ran free much longer, Tanalasta felt sure, the entire kingdom north of the High Road would be reduced to a scorched, diseased wasteland.
With some difficulty, the princess turned from the gate and looked to her small entourage. Save for herself and the queen, all of the guards, wizards, and companions carried only one small satchel of personal effects. Even Filfaeril and Tanalasta had packed their belongings into a single trunk each.
"Is everyone ready?" When no one reported otherwise, Tanalasta nodded to Korvarr Rallyhorn. "You may proceed."
"As you command, Princess." The steely-eyed lionar bowed stiffly-almost resentfully, Tanalasta thought-then turned toward the front of the group. There, two war wizards stood, each one linking arms with four burly dragoneers. In their hands, the dragoneers held bare iron swords. "You may proceed. We will follow in a hundred-count."
The wizards spoke a magic command word and vanished with a distinct blat, taking their eight dragoneer escorts along. Korvarr began to count aloud, slowly and audibly so everyone in the remaining half of the party could hear and understand.
Tanalasta's mother leaned close. "You know what this looks like, dear."
"That can't be helped," Tanalasta replied. "The research I need is in Suzail."
"People will think we're fleeing to safety," Filfaeril continued. "It hardly inspires confidence."
"I am not confident," Tanalasta replied. "We understand Xanthon, but what about the other ghazneths? The Arabellan library doesn't have the answers. If we want to stop them, I must return to the Royal Archives."
"And knowing why these traitors forsook Cormyr will help us how?" Filfaeril asked pointedly.
"You know how. I've already explained what happened to Xanthon when he learned that