Death of the Dragon - Ed Greenwood [80]
Alusair nodded as sagely as any of the old retired battlemasters Azoun had ever studied under, and said, "I hope that means we won't try to chase a hundred goblins along a hundred trails at once-or try to lure any goblinkin into an ordered battle up here in these wilderlands."
"I only wish that were possible," the king replied. "Try though we might, we can never get all the orcs and goblins to stand on one field and face us-so I can never strike the blow that humbles them."
"Well," his daughter replied flatly, "even if that opportunity seems to yawn open right in front of you, you must ignore it."
"Oh? How so?" Azoun asked, cocking his head to one side. This lass of his was sounding more like a veteran battlemaster all the time. What she said next might tell him if she was already fit to be a trusted leader.
"It'll be a trap, set to lure you to your doom," Alusair assured him. "To hold the gathered might of Cormyr out here to be butchered by orcs and goblins beyond counting."
Azoun raised both eyebrows. "Is our situation so dire?" he asked, still playing a part to draw his daughter out.
"Father, it is that and more," the Steel Princess told him. She took two quick steps back to a high rock and sprang up on it. Azoun hid a proud smile.
"There!" Alusair snarled, pointing with her sword. "And there!"
Her father looked, knowing full well what he'd see. Scattered bands of goblins, and orcs beyond number were streaming down at the embattled Cormyreans from all sides. The tuskers were pouring over knolls and rock outcrops like rivulets of water poured over dry soil, seemingly endless dark fingers reaching greedily for human lives-reaching on three sides, and soon the fourth. If the Cormyreans didn't flee like the wind from this place, they'd be surrounded and butchered in vain, leaving all the realm undefended against the dragon and her ravening creatures.
"Sound the horns," Azoun said almost bitterly. "It's Arabel for us, though I begin to doubt if even its strong walls will be shield enough. Gods, look at them!"
"The ballistae and catapults on the walls should thin a few hundred out of those," Alusair mused, "though I'd be happier if we had a blade to use on them that could slay thousands at a stroke. They are numerous, aren't they?" She gnawed thoughtfully on her lip. "No time to dig fire trenches..
"That water ditch, though," the king said slowly, "is not finished yet, if I recall Dauneth's last report. It should be dry."
"Yes… it should run about a mile west from the walls by now," Alusair murmured. Their eyes met, not needing words for agreement.
If the orcs could be trapped between the ditch and a hasty line of piled lamp oil jugs and brush, the ditch filled with more oil, and both set alight with fire arrows, ballistae and catapults ranged on the space between could slaughter thousands of tuskers.
"You listen too much to battle boasts, father," Alusair sighed, knowing it wouldn't-couldn't-be half so neat and easy as the king's leaping thoughts might have it.
"And I've been doing so for far more summers with a sword in my hand than you've been alive," Azoun reminded her with a grin, swatting her armored shoulders playfully with the flat of his sword.
Alusair rolled her eyes and barked in a mockery of aged gruffness, "Aye, but have ye learned which end of it to keep hold of, yet?"
The royal response was a mock thrust with the blade in question. Their eyes met over it, they chuckled in unison, and the king turned to his frowning, looming bannerguard and said, "We march on Arabel as swiftly as we can. Pass the order."
The war captains had evidently been watching. Before the hulking armored man could more than turn, trumpets blared. Men rose, lifting packs and weapons-save for those who'd served with the Steel Princess before. They looked to her, seeing just what they'd expected. Her hand was raised in the "to me" rallying signal, as she strode to where the marchers' rear guard should be.
Quietly, without