Vandar stood up. He still had to look up at the hulking figure before him, but it put them more eye to eye.
Highness, he said, I know you re old and wise. But you re not the only one who is. A similarly impressive spirit prophesied that I m going to lead my brothers to victory. As a token, it gave me this he hefted the red spear and this. He gripped the hilt of the scarlet sword.
Aoth wondered if the guardian of the mound truly had said precisely that. Since no one else had heard the conversation, there was no way to know. But somehow, he doubted it.
Judging from his crooked smile, maybe the Stag King did, too. But all he said was, Take it from one who knows: Even wise old spirits don t see everything. Or necessarily speak the whole truth in a form the hearer understands.
Vandar frowned. But there was nothing confusing about this, he said. And so, Highness, with all respect, I tell you that my brothers and I are going to go take that castle. I ll be honored if you and your warriors fight alongside us. But if not, we ll manage on our own.
The spirit snorted. No need for that, mortal, he said. We came to fight, and we will.
At that, the berserkers couldn t resist the impulse to howl and flap their arms some more. Some even pummeled one another, or gashed their cheeks with knives. Infected rather than alarmed by the excitement, stag warriors brandished their weapons, nodded vigorously, and set the bells in their antlers chiming. Meanwhile, Aoth exchanged glances with his fellow outlanders.
Cera looked worried, and Jhesrhi and Jet plainly shared Aoth s disgust. You handled that well, the griffon said.
If you could have done better, Aoth replied, that was the time to show it. Because the fact of the matter is, I m not the commander of this force, and neither the Stag King nor Vandar is much inclined to defer to my opinion anytime it differs from his own.
Yet when the commotion had died down and everyone had started preparing to march on the citadel, he approached the Stag King anyway.
You didn t warn me you were bringing me such a reckless ally, the spirit said.
He s even more headstrong now than when I first met him, Aoth replied. But I wouldn t say you tried all that hard to talk him out of his plan. If it even deserves to be called a plan.
You heard him, the Stag King said. He was going to do what he wanted no matter what anyone said, even me or a talking griffon. Do you think we should let him and his comrades go assault the castle by themselves?
No, Aoth replied. He had needed an army, and he had one. He couldn t let it come apart to be slaughtered piecemeal. We ll just have to be as cunning as he is foolhardy and find a way to make this work.
Jhesrhi stood and crooned a whisper to the cold, strong winds of the North Country. She d made friends with them during the trek from the Erech Forest, and they were happy to gather close and toy with strands of her hair and the folds of her war cloak. Curious about the heat they sensed inside her, they nosed at her like hounds.
When they understood what Jhesrhi wanted of them, all but one rushed away with a howl. The berserkers exclaimed and flinched at the blast. The stag men shook their bells, expressing surprise or approval in their own way.
The remaining wind settled awkwardly on the ground; staying still was unnatural and uncomfortable for it. Soon, Jhesrhi said, reassuring it, soon, you ll fly again. She visualized the shape she wanted for it, and, sketching the broad outline with sweeps of her staff, helped the elemental congeal into that guise. The onlookers babbled, rang their bells, and stepped back as, over the course of the several heartbeats, a hawk as big as Jet materialized before them.
Are you done? asked Aoth.
The winds had left Jhesrhi s hair hanging in her face, and she brushed it back. Yes, she replied.
Wonderful, Jet rasped. I needed a crosswind to fight.
It will help keep arrows out of your belly, said Aoth. He turned to Vandar and the Stag King. You might as well move out. The rest of us will see you on the battlefield.
I trust so, Vandar said. He brandished the red spear over his head. Come on, brothers! He strode off in the same direction the wind was blowing, lashing bare branches and picking up loose snow. The other berserkers followed. The Stag King gave Aoth a crooked smile, then set his own warriors into motion with a more casual wave of his antler weapon.
They were all standing tall, but they d crouch down and take advantage of cover when they neared the fortress. If Tymora smiled, the cover, the frigid, stinging gale blowing in the guards faces, and the diversion Aoth intended to provide should keep them from being spotted until they were close to the gate. When the sentries did catch sight of them, it would be time to charge.
For the moment, because winged steeds traveled faster than folk on foot, there was nothing for Jhesrhi and the others who had stayed behind to do but watch the advance. After a while, Aoth growled,
May the Black Flame burn him.
What s wrong? Cera asked, her golden buckler on her arm and her gilded mace in hand. Her yellow vestments fluttered in the wind.
You can t see it? he said. The Stag King and his warriors have slowed down a little and put the berserkers in the lead. He s making sure that when arrows and javelins start raining down from the battlements, and when our side stumbles into whatever s on the other side of the gate, Vandar and his comrades will bear the brunt of it.
With a snap and a rustle, Jet shook out his wings. So what? the griffon said. You d do the same to protect the Brotherhood if some other captain was determined to rush into trouble.
Aoth snorted as he said, Well, maybe.
I think, Cera said, that you just don t like it that you re not in command.
There s that priestly wisdom people talk about, he said.
She frowned. I wasn t criticizing you, jackass, she retorted.
I know, Aoth replied. I m sorry. And you may be right. Of course, I wasn t in complete control of the situation when I served Shala, or Tchazzar, or, come to think of it, any of my employers. A hired sword never is. But still. I can t read the Stag King. I m not sure I understand why he s even here. I can t talk sense to these idiot berserkers, and we re all rushing in blindly where a little scouting He spat. Forget it. I m blathering. We ll cope like we always do. Mount up.
Aoth swung himself onto Jet s back, and Cera climbed up behind him. Responding to the war mage s unspoken command, straps reared from the saddle like serpents to buckle him and the priestess in.
Jhesrhi climbed onto her conjured hawk. It didn t have any tack, but she trusted her skill and the elemental s to keep her astride it.
Ready? asked Aoth.
She nodded and said, Go.
Jet trotted, lashed his wings, and carried Aoth and Cera into the air. The hawk followed. For a moment, bits of its feathers rippled and faded. Jhesrhi murmured to it, reminding it of the need to remain solid, and the erosion stopped.
When they had climbed high enough, she spotted the berserkers and the stag men on the ground. Evidently satisfied with their progress, Aoth wheeled Jet away from them, and once again, she followed.
Their allies were advancing on the fortress from the east. To create a maximally effective distraction, the flyers should arguably have swept in from the opposite direction, across the gleaming frozen surface of Lake Ashane. But that would have required the griffon and the hawk to beat their way into the teeth of the windstorm Jhesrhi had raised, so they were approaching from the south instead.
From the outside, the design of the fortress was simple. The walls made a square, and a great slab of a keep loomed opposite the broken gate. As Aoth had reported, there were guards walking the battlements, and more on the roof of the donjon. There were not many yet, but Jhesrhi assumed more would scramble out into the open when she and her comrades made their presence known.