It was no surprise to Luthien when his unseen ally came running along the ledge, bow in hand.
“I scored eight kills this day,” Siobhan announced proudly.
“Then you have fallen behind,” an exhausted Luthien informed her, holding aloft his dripping sword. “Fourteen, and that makes it sixteen to fourteen in my favor.”
The half-elf eyed the young man sternly. “’Tis a long way to Carlisle,” she said grimly.
The friends shared a smile.
“They are in full retreat,” Shuglin informed the two kings, Bellick and Brind’Amour, when he found them among a group of Eriadorans and dwarfs near the middle of the long valley.
“In no formation,” another dwarf added. “Running like the cowards they are!”
“A true rout, then,” reasoned Bellick, and there was no disagreement. Losses to the joined human and dwarvish armies were amazingly light, but all reports indicated that the cyclopian dead would number near two thousand.
The dwarf king turned to Brind’Amour. “We must pursue with all speed,” Bellick said. “Catch them while they are disorganized, and before they can find defensible ground.”
The old wizard thought it over for a long while. There were many considerations here, not the least of which being the fact that the vast bulk of their supplies were still a couple of miles north of the valley. Bellick’s reasoning made sense, though, for if they allowed the terror of the rout to dissipate, the Praetorian Guards would fast regroup, and would not likely be caught so unawares again.
“I follow your word in this,” Bellick assured Brind’Amour, the dwarf recognizing the wizard’s turmoil. “Yet I beg of you to allow my dwarfs to complete what they have begun!”
Every dwarf in the area cheered out at those words, and Brind’Amour realized that holding the eager warriors of DunDarrow back now would cause simmering feelings that his army could ill-afford at that time. “Go with your forces,” he said to Bellick. “But not so far. Keep the one-eyes running. My soldiers will collect our wounded and our supplies, and set our camp there.” Brind’Amour pointed to the southern end of the valley. “Return to us this night, that we might resume our joined march in the morning.”
Bellick nodded, smiling widely beneath the bright hair of his orange beard. He reached up to clap Brind’Amour on the shoulder as he walked past, as he walked into a gathering mob of his eager subjects.
“All the way to Carlisle,” began the chant, starting low and growing to a roar.
20
Visions
Luthien commanded the main group of Eriadoran soldiers that day, setting the camp, tending the wounded, burying the dead. Though he doubted that the cyclopians would regroup and come back at them, he preferred to err on the side of caution. Scouts were sent up over the rim of the valley; archers were put in place on the valley walls, overlooking the encampment.
Brind’Amour spent the remainder of the day in his tent, alone, though soldiers venturing near to the tent often heard the wizard speaking in whispered tones. He emerged after sunset, to find Luthien and Siobhan organizing the nighttime perimeter. Many of Bellick’s dwarfs, including Shuglin, had returned, all with tales of further punishment inflicted on their fleeing enemy.
“It all goes well,” Brind’Amour remarked to Luthien and Siobhan when the three found a rare quiet moment.
Luthien eyed the wizard curiously, suspecting that Brind’Amour had spent the day in magical contact with the other arms of the invasion, a fact the wizard confirmed a moment later.
“Proctor Byllewyn and his force have swept down from the wall and encircled Princetown,” the wizard said, “and the beleaguered folk, still without a garrison from the last war, and still without a wizard-duke to lead them, are close to surrender. This very night, the proxy mayor of Princetown meets with Proctor Byllewyn and Kayryn Kulthwain to discuss the terms.”
Luthien and Siobhan exchanged satisfied nods; that was just what they had been hoping for. Princetown could have become a major obstacle to the eastern ground forces. If they had been held up for even a few days, they would have had no chance of getting to Carlisle on time.
“The eastern fleet has made the shores of Dulsen-Berra,” Brind’Amour went on, “third of the Five Sentinels.”
“Losses?” Siobhan asked.
“None to speak of,” the wizard replied. “It seems that more of the independent islanders have joined our cause than have taken up arms against us.”
“To the dismay of the Huegoths, no doubt,” Siobhan quipped.
Luthien glared at her, not willing to hear such pessimism, but the half-elf remained steadfast. “Slaves must be replaced,” she said matter-of-factly.
She was echoing Oliver, the young Bedwyr realized. Oliver deBurrows, my moral conscience, Luthien mused, and he shuddered at the thought.
“Not so,” Brind’Amour answered to Siobhan’s concerns. “The Huegoths remain far offshore, shadowing our vessels, and hopefully beyond the notice of Greensparrow. They have not joined in any of the limited action thus far, and have registered no complaints with Captain Leary.”
The news was welcome, if surprising. Even Luthien, holding faith in the truce, had not expected the Huegoths to behave so well for this long.
“Your brother knows the truth, of course,” Brind’Amour went on. “He understands our desires to keep the brutal Isenlanders away from innocents. But Ethan has assured King Asmund that the distant course determined for the longships is only to keep Greensparrow oblivious to Eriador’s newest allies.”
“Asmund believes him?” Luthien asked, somewhat skeptical.
“The Huegoths are behaving,” Brind’Amour replied, and nothing more needed to be said.
“What of the western fleet?” Siobhan asked, and her concerns were clear in her voice, though she tried to hide them. That brought a sly smile from Luthien as he tried to imagine the half-elf and Oliver side by side. That vision was lost before it ever took form, though, for the mere mention of their fleet in the west sent Luthien’s thoughts to Katerin. Luthien promptly reminded himself of his duty and squared his shoulders, but he could not dismiss his fears for his love. Never would Luthien demand that Katerin stay out of battle, not when the cause was this important, but he wished that she was by his side at least, that he might know every minute that she was all right. It struck Luthien then that perhaps Brind’Amour had arranged for Katerin to go far from him purposefully. And perhaps it was a good thing, the young Bedwyr had to admit. How well would he fight, how willing would he be to commit his forces to a daring battle, if he knew that Katerin was among those soldiers? She was as capable a warrior as anyone Luthien had ever known, and needed no looking after, yet with his heart so stung how could Luthien not hover over her?
“All the forces have come down from the northeastern reaches and from the three islands,” Brind’Amour informed them. “They have gathered in full and will sail out from Port Charley in the morning, when the tide is high.”
Better for both of them to be apart at this time, Luthien admitted, but that did little to calm his fears.
“All is in place, a most splendid start to the campaign!” Brind’Amour said cheerfully, his white teeth beaming from his hairy face.
With that proclamation, the meeting ended. As he and Siobhan walked away, Luthien noticed the expression on the half-elf’s face and understood that she was harboring the same anxiety for her distant friend as he. No doubt, though, Siobhan was more tentative in her thoughts about Oliver. Luthien didn’t mention their common worries; what would be the point?
“All the way to Carlisle,” he said suddenly, imitating the dwarfish chant.
Siobhan looked at him, surprised, and then grateful for the reminder of the business at hand. “I will go out to the east,” she announced, “and see that the watch line is secured.”