The Vacant Throne - Ed Greenwood [17]
"So you're proposing-?" Kalarth prompted, staring around into the night as if he expected baronial armies to suddenly sprout among the trees on all sides.
Sendrith Duthjack lifted his voice a little, so that it carried clearly across the hollow. "An attack on Flowfoam this very night. Slay this so-called king, sword any barons, tersepts, and wizards we find, and seize the castle. Get our bellies full, search the place on the morrow, and decide then whether to hold it and put a new king on the River Throne, or take what we can back into the wilds."
"A new king by the name of Bloodblade, perhaps?" Kalarth asked, turning his head a little to one side but never taking his eyes from Duthjack's.
Bloodblade lifted and dropped his shoulders in an easy shrug. "Perhaps. The important thing is to slay Snowsar, and benefit however we can from what will follow, as one baron lashes out at another, up and down the Vale. I was thinking more of defending the Isle over hiding in the Wildrocks or taking to the forest."
"That's no choice," Gloun growled. "Trees are a poor cloak against rain and snow."
Bloodblade shrugged. "On the other hand, if wizard after wizard sends spells-or armies-against us because they know we're standing over the River Throne, we could simply be choosing a grander grave than elsewhere. Lurking again could let us seize a barony with but a few swordthrusts, once its strength is spent fighting some rival baron."
"Pretty talk," Kalarth said, "doesn't distract me from seeing that you're planning on leading us on a cold swim in the river, to an Isle defended by the Three alone know how many guards and-if half the tales of Baron Silvertree are true-some deadly guardian beasts or waiting spells, or both, to hack our way through an unknown number of wizards, all to butcher one man sitting on a stone chair. A dozen mages have been hunting us these long months past, and here you're planning to do something bold with us all gathered together, on display like tavern dancers for them to blast and twist into monster shapes and torment with mind-pains! I've followed idiots all too eager to spill my blood to buy their victories before-once or twice too often. Are you another of them, I wonder? Just how well have you thought this through, Duthjack?"
"Well enough to have a boat ready for us," Bloodblade said coldly, "and precise places for each of us to head for, the moment we set foot on Flowfoam. One of those places will be the kitchens, crammed with food simmering for morning meals right now, but with most of the cooks asleep."
There was an involuntary murmur-from some of the men, almost a moan-at those last words, and Bloodblade let it rise and fall as a little smile grew across his face. It was a smile that didn't reach anywhere near his eyes.
"And then again, hearken," he added sharply. "If this strike is to fall as swiftly and as surely as we'll need it to, to have any hope of staying alive, I'll need to be obeyed as if I was baron over us all-or better than that!"
There was a ripple of humor, and then sudden stillness, as all eyes fixed on the two men facing each other.
"Well, Kalarth?" Bloodblade asked softly. "Will you obey me? Or shall we have it out between us now, blade to blade?"
"There are no other choices?" Kalarth asked almost mockingly. "Such as simply stepping back into the dark and letting you go to your doom without me?"
There was a rustling then, as one of the warriors who'd walked with Duthjack drew a cocked crossbow out from under his cloak, and carefully laid a quarrel in its firing-runnel. He lifted it almost slowly and aimed it at Kalarth.
"I'm afraid not," Bloodblade replied mildly. "I dare not treat all our lives so lightly. You could, after all, go straight to some wizard and warn Flowfoam of our coming."
"Whereas you," Kalarth's deep voice came right back at him, "could have done that already, and be sending us all to our deaths, while you wait here in safety for a reward."
Duthjack's smile vanished.