Dragons of Winter Night - Margaret Weis [171]
But Derek had been adamant. He would ride out and challenge the dragonarmies on the field. As for being outnumbered, he laughed in scorn. Since when do goblins fight like Knights of Solamnia? The Knights had been outnumbered fifty to one in the Goblin and Ogre wars of the Vingaard Keep one hundred years ago, and they’d routed the creatures with ease!
“But you’ll be fighting draconians,” Sturm warned. “They are not like goblins. They are intelligent and skilled. They have magic-users among their ranks, and their weapons are the finest in Krynn. Even in death they have the power to kill—”
“I believe we can deal with them, Brightblade,” Derek interrupted harshly. “And now I suggest you wake your men and tell them to make ready.”
“I’m not going,” Sturm said steadily. “And I’m not ordering my men to go, either.”
Derek paled with fury. For a moment he could not speak, he was so angry. Even Lord Alfred appeared shocked.
“Sturm,” Alfred began slowly, “do you know what you are doing?”
“Yes, my lord,” Sturm answered. “We are the only thing standing between the dragonarmies and Palanthas. We dare not leave this garrison unmanned. I’m keeping my command here.”
“Disobeying a direct order,” Derek said, breathing heavily. “You are a witness, Lord Alfred. I’ll have his head this time!” He stalked out. Lord Alfred, his face grim, followed, leaving Sturm alone.
In the end, Sturm had given his men a choice. They could stay with him at no risk to themselves—since they were simply obeying the orders of their commanding officer—or they could accompany Derek. It was, he mentioned, the same choice Vinas Solamnus had given his men long ago, when the Knights rebelled against the corrupt Emperor of Ergoth. The men did not need to be reminded of this legend. They saw it as a sign and, as with Solamnus, most of them chose to stay with the commander they had come to respect and admire.
Now they stood watching, their faces grim, as their friends prepared to ride out. It was the first open break in the long history of the Knighthood, and the moment was grievous.
“Reconsider, Sturm,” Lord Alfred said as the knight helped him mount his horse. “Lord Derek is right. The dragonarmies have not been trained, not like the Knights. There’s every probability we’ll route them with barely a blow being struck.”
“I pray that is true, my lord,” Sturm said steadily.
Alfred regarded him sadly. “If it is true, Brightblade, Derek will see you tried and executed for this. There’ll be nothing Gunthar can do to stop him.”
“I would willingly die that death, my lord, if it would stop what I fear will happen,” Sturm replied.
“Damn it, man!” Lord Alfred exploded. “If we are defeated, what will you gain by staying here? You couldn’t hold off an army of gully dwarves with your small contingent of men! Suppose the roads do open up? You won’t be able to hold the Tower long enough for Palanthas to send reinforcements.”
“At the least we can buy Palanthas time to evacuate her citizens, if—”
Lord Derek Crownguard edged his horse between those of his men. Glaring down at Sturm, his eyes glittering from behind the slits in his helm, Lord Derek raised his hand for silence.
“According to the Measure, Sturm Brightblade,” Derek began formally, “I hereby charge you with conspiracy and—”
“To the Abyss with the Measure!” Sturm snarled, his patience snapping. “Where has the Measure gotten us? Divided, jealous, crazed! Even our own people prefer to treat with the armies of our enemies! The Measure has failed!”
A deathly hush settled over the knights in the courtyard, broken only by the restless pawing of a horse or the jingle of armor as here and there a man shifted in his saddle.
“Pray for my death, Sturm Brightblade,” Derek said softly, “or by the gods I’ll slit your throat at your execution myself!” Without another word, he wheeled his horse around and cantered to the head of the column.
“Open the gates!” he called.
The morning sun climbed above