The Druid Queen - Douglas Niles [46]
"I'm going to Cambro today," she announced. "Want to come along?"
"Sure!" Newt beamed. "But why? Didn't I tell you it's full of giants and stuff? Why don't we go to Corwell, or someplace else that's friendly?"
By the time she had convinced the faerie dragon that she was determined in her choice of destination, a bare minimum of light sifted through the woods, and the stars overhead slowly disappeared into the dawn. Once again Robyn's body smoothly changed shape, and the figure of the white hawk soared into the still morning air. Buzzing beside her came the equally swift faerie dragon.
For a few hours, they flew, guided by Robyn's true sense of direction. Finally they saw the small clearing in its setting of low, rock-knobbed hills. As they swooped downward, she was relieved to see that most of the houses had suffered relatively little damage, though a few had been burned and others smashed into junk. The evidence of battle was all too indisputable.
Diving lower, she saw that the monsters had gone. Their tracks formed a plain, muddy rut extending northward from the village. Other figures, however, stood among the ruins, and as the hawk soared toward the ground, Robyn identified many of them. A number of dwarves regarded the great bird suspiciously, but none of them raised their crossbows-and in another moment, Robyn settled to the ground, standing proudly as the dark-haired druid queen. She wasn't surprised when Newt didn't appear, suspecting that he hovered around somewhere, invisibly observing this large gathering of strangers.
"Your Majesty!" Hanrald exclaimed, quickly dropping to one knee as she greeted him and bade him rise. Danrak, too, formally greeted the mistress of his druidic faith.
"And Brigit… and Finellen as well," Robyn said with a sad smile at the destruction around them. "How unfortunate that we old companions meet like this."
"It's a regular 'old campaigners' council," Finellen grumbled. "But we're too late."
"You weren't here when this happened? No wonder they got away with it," Robyn said, clapping the bearded dwarf-woman on the shoulder.
Gruffly, biting back her frustration, Finellen told Robyn what she had learned from Danrak and the physical evidence of the scene: the approximate number of the attackers-a remarkably accurate estimate of two hundred-and the fact that the brutes had marched off to the north. Missing from Cambro were considerable stockpiles of strong drink, as well as much treasure and the Silverhaft Axe, the prize artifact of the village.
Danrak added the information about the dwarven refugees. "We also received word just this morning that they've attacked some farmsteads in Winterglen. They're still marching north, toward the coast."
"We're going after them within the day," Finellen noted. "We've sent out a mustering of the clans, and I hope to add a few more warriors before we start out on the trail. But after that, it won't be more than a few days before we track these thugs down and attack!"
Robyn looked around. At best, Finellen had some fifty warriors in her company. Even if that number doubled, which didn't seem likely, they would be vastly outnumbered by the giant-kin.
"I can return to Corwell by tomorrow," she said, calculating distances and effort in her mind. "When King Tristan hears about this, he'll take immediate action-you know that! Why don't you consider holding back until he can join you? He can raise five hundred men-at-arms from Corwell Town alone. They'll be on the march within a few hours of the call. Then, with your forces united, you can make one solid, sure attack!"
Her arguments sounded persuasive and sensible to the humans and the elf, but Robyn could tell that Finellen didn't see them quite that way.
"Was Corwell sacked?" demanded the bearded warrior. This was the question that defined the dwarf's approach to the problem. "Since when do you think that we dwarves can't take care of ourselves?"
"That's not the case! What about the lessons we learned together twenty years ago, Finellen?