“This is poor news,” Longwell said. “Odau, this is my general, Cyrus Davidon. It was through his offer of assistance I came to be joined by all these souls willing to traverse the divide between our lands. Cyrus, this is Odau Genner, a dear friend and knight of my father’s.”
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Odau,” Cyrus said. “How can we help? Do you need us at the front?”
“I am pleased to meet you as well,” Odau said with a nod to Cyrus. “You are not needed at the front at this moment. It is essentially agreed between King Longwell and Briyce Unger that we will meet in battle on the day after tomorrow in the fields north of the Forest of Waigh. When we sighted you from the watchtower,” Odau said with a smile, “your father gave immediate orders for a feast to be put on, with a banquet in the town for your men after their long journey. Your high officers are invited to break bread with the King in the castle, to discuss the battle, if you are amenable, and to be well taken care of after your long journey. He offers his full hospitality to both you and your army.”
“A generous offer,” Longwell said. “My father’s full hospitality comes rarely, and I suspect his current predicament accounts for much of it. Lose the battle and his Kingdom is lost, so why not open the coffers and wine cellars wide in hopes that we can turn the tides of fortune back to his favor, eh?”
“I think that might have been his intention,” Odau said with a grin. “He said something about ‘showing your men such a time that they’ll want to fight harder for this Kingdom than our own will.’”
“Goodness. Well, that should keep the doxies well paid,” Longwell said. “Are you to ride back with us or are you here only to deliver his message?”
“I’ll only need signal him to give your assent,” Odau said, “and then I can guide you into town. Your men will be billeted in the village, each a bed of his own-”
“We have some women in our ranks as well,” Cyrus interrupted, causing Odau to start. “I trust they’ll be provided for as well.”
“Uh … ah …” Odau stammered. “If they’re of your army, I trust we can find a place for them as well, though obviously that is not our custom and it perhaps will take a bit of adjustment-”
“We’ll try to make it easy on you,” Cyrus said. “But if you could make sure they receive the same good treatment, that would be very helpful.”
Cyrus could see the tension on Odau’s face. “We will … make every effort to accommodate them. I’m certain that we’ll find them lodgings to their satisfaction. If you gentlemen will follow me …”
They rode onto the city’s main street to find cheering crowds on the corners. Curious children and adults pushed each other aside (more the adults pushing each other and the children trying to squeeze their way to the front for a better view) to get a look at the army of Sanctuary. Cyrus looked at the attire of the peasantry and found it much the same as he would have seen in Reikonos, though of different fabrics and styles.
They came to the main square of the city and halted, Odau holding up a hand to stop them. “This is where we leave your army. Our men are already working to clear accommodations for them, and they’ll be working at it for some time. However, the lodgings for your officers are ready at the castle, and we have food and drink waiting for you. If you’d care to join me-”
“Give me a moment,” Cyrus said and turned Windrider around. “Odellan,” Cyrus said, and the elf made his way through the horse ranks to him. “You’ll see to the army and make certain everyone gets food and lodging?”
“Aye, sir,” Odellan said. “You can count on me; I’ll not rest until they’re taken care of, every one.”
“Tell them to have fun,” Cyrus said, “but make certain they understand that they’ll need to keep themselves in line. I have no problems with them enjoying whatever sort of recreation they can find-honorably, of course-but I want no angry complaints from the local populace. That means keep the drinking to a manageable level, and make sure they’re all in bed at a reasonable hour. We’ll likely be marching by midday tomorrow, so let them know that.”
Odellan hesitated, the slightest grimace on his face. “You don’t wish to address the troops yourself, sir?”
Cyrus looked around the square; the noise was already overwhelming, and the army was strung out along the narrow boulevard halfway back to the town limits. “This isn’t the best place for a speech, and I doubt they’d hear much of it anyway. Make sure they understand. I’m going to talk with the King and see if we can hammer out a strategy to beat this army that’s coming.”
“Aye, sir,” Odellan said. “It will be as you say.”
“I never doubted it for a minute,” Cyrus said, bringing his horse around and looking to Odau. “How many of my officers does your King expect for this feast?”
“We could house several hundred comfortably,” Odau said with a pleasant smile. “However, his Grace expects you would have twenty or so officers to lead your troops.”
“I’m going to define officer a little more broadly then.” He turned to look at the force on horseback behind him. “Ryin, Nyad, Curatio, Terian, J’anda-Longwell, of course-I’ll also have the Baroness, Martaina and Aisling come with us.” He glanced through their ranks and saw Mendicant sitting on his small pony next to the massive desert man, Scuddar In’shara. “Mendicant and Scuddar, too.”
Mendicant, only about four feet tall, pointed a clawed finger at himself, and Cyrus saw his mouth open, sharp teeth visible within, though he only saw the goblin mouth the word, “Me?”
Aisling guided her horse from behind Odellan. “Why me?”
Cyrus shrugged, but his eyes never left hers. “I have my reasons. For all of you.” He looked around. “All here?” He tossed a glance back to Odau. “Lead on.”
There was a short road to the gates of the castle. The curtain wall took advantage of the steep slopes around the hill it was built upon-Cyrus estimated that a siege would be well nigh impossible by traditional means, as the only easy approach was up the winding path to the main gate. “It seems to me,” he said to Odau, “your King could simply close up his wall and wait for this Briyce Unger to get bored of standing at the bottom of his hill, trying to rally forces to crash his gate. He’d never have to surrender if he didn’t care to.”
“Aye,” Odau Genner said with a slow nod, “and the King might do that, yet. But his Kingdom would be lost, nonetheless, as with no one to defend the smallfolk, Briyce Unger could control every city without ever taking Vernadam.” Odau smiled, but it was a bitter one. “If one controls all of a Kingdom but for the castle that governed it, has one not conquered that Kingdom?”
They made their way up the twisted path and Cyrus noted the curves and at least one unnecessary switchback in its construction-undoubtedly designed to make siege more difficult. He looked up at the stone behemoth that stretched into the sky above him and marveled at the single-minded effort it must have taken to construct such a gargantuan fortress. How many slaves worked how many years to do this? Or was it simple workmen? Either way, this is nothing short of astounding; it’s a wonder.
Smooth walls gave way to ramparts that jutted out over the hillside below like an uneven lip sticks out from a face. From the ramparts they can shower boiling oil or arrows onto anyone who tries to climb the hill. The stone was all grey, dull, with some blocks taller than he and wider than three men laid end to end. Where did they quarry all that stone? And how did they get it here?
“Why did you pick me to come?” Cyrus looked over in surprise to see Aisling looking at him. He had not heard her ride up, so busy had he been staring at the castle. “I’m hardly an officer-or even one of your favorite people, of late.” She frowned. “Or ever.”