The Coral Kingdom - Douglas Niles [10]
There, in the few short weeks that had passed, the avatar of evil had suffered what seemed to be an infinity of torture and suffering, punishment for his failure, meted out to him by his dark master. Now, however, Talos summoned Sinioth to face him. The avatar appeared immediately, assuming the body of a withered old man as he stood trembling beneath the wrath of his awful god.
"Coss-Axell-Sinioth! You failed me once. Do you dare attempt my works again?"
"Please, Master, I beg for a chance to redeem myself!" wheezed the frail form, his voice tremulous.
"Dare I trust you?"
"I beseech you, O Mighty One, allow the chance to prove my worth! It is true that I failed to succeed in your name and deserve nothing more than your immortal scorn, your disgust and loathing! But remember, O Master!"-here the voice became more courageous, wheedling persuasively-"I planted the tool, the mirror of scrying, that still allows you to witness the world, to spy on your enemies!"
"Bah!" snorted Talos haughtily. "I have seen naught of that glass!"
"Time, O Great One… it will take only a short time, I am certain, before the Kendrick princess discovers it. She will cherish the mirror, Master, and through it, you will see all that she beholds! She will give you a window into the lives of your greatest enemies!"
"You may speak the truth," mused the god, considering the possibility that this time Sinioth's plan would succeed. Talos also had another source of good fortune-a piece of luck that encouraged him to quickly reenter the fray.
"There is a tool-a bargaining chip-that has come into my hands," he informed his avatar, "that will prove an even greater asset than the mirror! It is for this purpose I have summoned you!"
Talos sent Coss-Axell-Sinioth back to the Realms, for he needed the avatar to carry word of that asset back to the Ffolk. Talos wanted them to suffer-very much indeed.
2
Council In Corwell
The fields and moors around Corwell teemed with tents, makeshift pastures, and practice yards. Riders galloped here and there, and dozens of banners, denoting all the major lords of the Ffolk, streamed from the peaks of the grandest of the tents.
Many of the nobles themselves had been given lodgings in Caer Corwell, or located accommodations in the many inns of the town, all of which charged top price for the several weeks of this unprecedented midsummer court. But teeming Ffolk quickly overran the relatively small community, and thus the sprawling tent city had soon claimed Corwell's environs.
The Ffolk came from all across Gwynneth, and many ships had arrived from the islands of Snowdown, Moray, and of course Alaron. Several tall galleons and a number of tublike curraghs bobbed in the harbor, although the Coho was the only longship present.
Jousts and tourneys occurred daily throughout the gathering. Even now, in the morning, both male and female warriors trained vigorously in dozens of impromptu practice yards. Minstrels plied the crowds, while bakers and brewers did a season's worth of business daily. An occasional thief slipped his way among the populace, slicing a purse string here or picking a pocket there, but the Ffolk were an alert and frugal people, not prone to carelessness with their precious coins. Those dishonest rogues unfortunate or careless enough to be apprehended were divested of their belongings and locked up until they could be placed aboard a ship departing for the Sword Coast. Repeat offenders were hanged.
All the festivity had been building for a week as more and more of the Ffolk reached this small town. Not in the lifetime of any human present had Corwell hosted such a gathering. It brought a warmth and pride to thousands of hearts, for the relatively isolated kingdom had always held an important place in the heritage of the Moonshae people. This had been the home of Cymrych Hugh in centuries past, and now, in their own lifetimes, it had given them Tristan Kendrick and unity.
The High Queen arrived dramatically in late morning. She soared in the guise of a great eagle, a