The Druid Queen - Douglas Niles [82]
Settling her feet on the lofty parapet of those walls, she searched for the final element of her brew. Undisguised now, she came upon a pacing guard. The man bowed respectfully, so he didn't see the still-crimson blade dart outward. He fell silently, staring mute and uncomprehending at the young woman who stood over his bleeding corpse.
Her eyes shining in the darkness, Deirdre knelt and gathered the last sample of blood. Then, in a swirl of her dark cloak, she passed through a door and entered the darkened hallways of the keep.
* * * * *
"Splendid… the components of might are in your hands, my daughter." The immortal form of Talos twisted and heaved in anticipation. The princess of the Moonshaes was his now! He well knew that, with the striking of her dagger, she had forever turned her back on her people and their dying faith.
In his struggles, Talos had learned an important lesson-that the Earthmother must be struck away from the heart of her power, away from Myrloch Vale. Deirdre had begun that attack, gathering the vital tools of destruction. She would become a powerful agent of the New Gods, bringing the goddess to her knees in final defeat.
For that purpose, she would be linked to another tool. That one still slumbered to the north, but soon he would be awakened, emerging for his vengeance from the very shadow of the Icepeak.
The ultimate sword of chaos would be the demigod, Grond Peaksmasher, finally freed from his goddess-imposed confinement.
10
Perilous Pathways
The muscular steed galloped like a pale ghost along the open floor of the forest, carrying her silver-armored rider beneath overhanging limbs and around large, moss-covered boulders. Brigit gave the fleet war-horse free rein, and the white Synnorian mare flew through misty meadows and dank, overgrown thickets.
Sensing, after several miles, the nearness of her destination, the elfwoman exerted slight pressure with her knees, bringing the mare's headlong race to a gentle, cautious trot. In another moment, a small figure emerged from the brush, and the horse, grown used to dwarves over the past week on the trail, reared back only slightly.
"We're too late," Brigit announced tersely as Finellen and Hanrald came up behind the lead dwarf. "They've taken Codscove even more quickly than we thought possible."
The dwarven column gradually came into view behind the leaders. Hanrald led his great war-horse, while the dwarves, on foot, marched steadily along behind.
"What are they doing now?" asked the dwarven captain.
"It looks like they've started along the shore to the east. There are several small villages and at least one good-sized town in their path."
"Damn!" spat Hanrald. "We can't let them run wild!"
"Just what I've been sayin' for a week now," grumbled Finellen. "Weren't you the one who told me to wait for King Kendrick?"
Hanrald spun away in irritation. His mind whirled through conflicting pictures of his duty. On the one hand, the king was sure to come, with sufficient men-at-arms to confront the horde with a reasonable chance of success. As it was, they had a mere fourscore dwarves or so, coupled with a human earl and an elven sister knight-not a great prospect of victory in any thoughtful analysis.
Yet they had no indication of how long it would take the king's army to arrive on the scene, or how much damage the monstrous horde could inflict in the meantime. Indeed, they had expected Codscove to delay the beasts for several days, and instead, that prosperous hamlet had been ravaged in a few short hours.
"You're right-now, in any event," muttered the proud earl, turning back to the stubborn dwarfwoman. "I don't think we can afford to wait any longer."
"Did you catch sight of the Silverhaft Axe?" Finellen queried.
"No-as much as I could see, they didn't have it with them."
"Damn! What did a bunch of firbolgs want it for? Where did they take it?" the dwarf demanded.
"Speaking of firbolgs, I was surprised to see that there aren't that many giants in this horde-mostly trolls," Brigit