The Temptation of Elminster - Ed Greenwood [21]
"It is," Immeira granted, then summoned up her wits and will enough to ask a question of her own.
"Are you alone?" she asked, studying the man's face. It was not so young as it had first appeared, and "Wanlorn" was an old folk name for "wanderer searching for something." How could one man…even one so skilled at arms as this one…defeat, or even escape alive, from all the men who raised blades for the Fox?
As if he'd read her mind, the hawk-nosed man took Immeira gently by her upper arms and said urgently, "I am indeed alone…wherefore I need thy help, lass. Not to fight Foxlings with tree limbs… or even daggers, but to tell me: do the folk of the Starn wish to be rid of the Iron Fox?"
"Yes," Immeira said, a little bewildered by how fast Faerun had been turned upside down in front of her eyes. "By the gods, yes."
"And how many blades answer the Fox's call? Both ready-armed, like these, and others who may hurl spells or be able to fire a crossbow or hold loyal in some other wise… tell me, please."
Immeira found herself spilling out all she knew and could remember or guess about the Iron Fox and his forces. The newcomer's dancing eyes and ready grin never failed, even when she told him that those who wore the dark mail and the fox head badge numbered a dozen more than the six he'd slain, and that no man remained in the Starn with brawn or courage enough to back a lone newcomer against the Iron Fox. Nor could she trust anyone beyond herself to aid him, for fear of tales being carried back by those among the she-shadows who might well, after a hard winter, want to win warmth and fine clothes and good food enough to betray someone they scarcely knew.
His grin broadened when she told him that as far as she'd heard no sorcerer or even priest dwelt in Fox Tower or anywhere near the Starn and that the Fox commanded no magic himself.
Immeira told Wanlorn, or whatever his name truly was, where the guards were posted and how soon the six men would be missed. The half dozen Foxlings were lying in the trees with their helms tossed into the Larrauden and their mounts…plus one unfamiliar dapple gray horse…tethered nearby. She told him as much as she knew…of how the Iron Fox spent his evenings, where his four hunting dogs and the crossbows, lanterns, and horses at Fox Tower were kept, and of life in the Starn both these days and before the fall of the Talons…until she was quite weary of answering questions.
Wanlorn asked her if there were any haystacks in the Starn that could be approached unseen from these woods and that would escape being disturbed by farmers in the next day or two. She told him of three such, and he asked her to guide him to the best of them as stealthily as possible, to hide his bundle of seized weapons.
"What then?" she asked quietly.
"'Twould be safest, Immeira," Wanlorn said directly, his eyes very steady on hers, "if ye then went to wherever ye're supposed to dwell…not out in the woods where angry armed men with hunting dogs may search…and never went near this hollow or the haystack again until the Fox is gone from the Starn, whatever befalls me."
"And if I refuse?" she almost whispered.
He smiled thinly and said, "I'm no tyrant. In the Faerun I want to see, lads and lasses should be free to walk and speak as they please. Yet, if ye follow me or step forth to aid me, I cannot protect thee… for I am alone in this, with no god to work miracles when battle turns against me."
"Oh, no?" Immeira asked, lifting a hand that trem bled rather less than she'd feared it would, to indicate where the Foxling patrol had barred the road. "Was that not a miracle?"
"No," Wanlorn replied, smiling. "Miracles mostly grow when deeds are told of, through years of retelling. If ye speak too freely, it may become a miracle yet"
Who was this man, and why had he come here?
Immeira met those calm blue-gray eyes for a moment…just now, they seemed rather more blue than her mind told her they were…and asked simply, "Who are you, really? And why… why do you want to face death here? What does the Starn matter to you? Or seek you revenge