Rising tide - Mel Odom [77]
The crowd came forward, no longer held back by the authority the uniforms brought with them. "Tell us!" a spokesman cried out. "Will Waterdeep stand?"
"Get back! Get back!" a senior civilar ordered, pushing at his own men to clear a circle ten feet across. Almost immediately, an azure star dawned in the circle five feet above the cobblestones in front of the guild hall.
Pacys turned and stared at the star, captivated by the color and the way it appeared out of nowhere. The azure star exploded suddenly, blossoming out to fill the ragged ten foot circle. The powerful flash temporarily blinded all who were watching, and the booming crackle of thunder that followed it quieted the fearful cries and questions of the townspeople.
When the azure starlight died back, a silhouette of a man on horseback took shape in the circle. As Pacys's vision returned, he recognized the man on the huge white horse.
Even ahorse, the man looked tall and heavily muscled in his upper body and legs. Full plate armor covered him, primarily a silver that gleamed in the moonlight and reflected the burning fires and torches around him, but the black and gold colors of the watch and guard striped it as well. A white tabard with his family crest covered his chest and he carried his helm under one arm. His face was strong and square and solemn. Gray touched his temples but his youth and vigor were evident. A shield covered his left arm as he reined in the stamping war-horse.
After a moment, he raked his fierce gaze over the enlisted men and civilians. "I am Piergeiron!" he roared in a loud voice that echoed from the buildings and over the water. "Called Paladinson and Known Lord of Water-deep." He drew his great sword Halcyon and held it aloft so it gleamed. "As long as I can fight, this city will remain standing and be free!" He lifted the sword, and as if in answer, a salvo of flaming rock seared across the sky from Castle Waterdeep's catapults. They splashed down in the harbor around the bloodworms and dragon turtles, the biggest targets immediately available.
A frenzy ripped through the crowd of soldiers and townspeople alike. Pacys wasn't immune to it himself, feeling lifted immediately by the presence of the Waterdhavian lord.
The war-horse Dreadnought stamped restlessly, causing its full plate barding to ring. Piergeiron kept the animal under control. "I came here tonight to take the battle to those who dare raise arms against this, our city, our home! Now who stands with me?"
A triumphant cheer sounded around the guild hall and must have carried down Dock Street. In seconds, men down at Ship Street picked up the rallying cheer as well. Piergeiron Paladinson's name quickly became a battle cry.
The big man clamped his helm on his head and put spurs to his horse as his men cleared the way to Dock Street. Dreadnought reared as lightning split the sky asunder, casting livid purple light over the silver armor of man and horse. Then he was off, and the crowd of soldiers and townspeople followed in his wake, an army raised where only fearful men had stood before.
Gasping and in pain, Pacys followed. His nimble mind pushed and pulled at words, jerking them into the order and cadence he wanted, smithing them into his song, polishing the ones that felt right. He knew Piergeiron had chosen his means of appearance, and the salvo of catapult loads that had followed. If they lived, if Waterdeep survived, Oghma be merciful and just, but what a song the bard would have to leave as his legacy.
XVII
12 Mirtul, the Year of the Gauntlet
"Live, that you may serve," Jherek said in frustration. "Madame litaar, I don't understand."
He sat at her table, finishing up the meal she'd prepared. As she'd promised, the venison stew was thick and hearty, filled with vegetables cut up fresh from the garden she and the household cook maintained.
Located in the front of the house, the dining room looked seaward. The ships in the harbor