“Don’t doubt it. But it makes me wonder who’s in charge down here.”
“You just saw who is in charge,” Dram argued. He meant himself, of course, but he had a momentary thought that it might have actually looked as if he were talking about Sally. No bother, that. It was close enough to the truth, anyway.
“Now, there might be some more of those bombards coming. I really don’t know. I’m going to be sending Swig back to the Vingaards to bring a load of sulfur over the next few months. When I get that in, I’ll be able to take stock.”
“You’re not going yourself? Don’t you want to see the emperor in Palanthas?”
“He knows where to find me,” Dram said with a shrug. “So no, I like it here just fine. And one way or the other, I can find a use for some of that splendid steel around here. Just not sure it will be ten wagons.”
Rogard glowered but nursed his ale for a while before replying. Finally, he set the empty glass down and rose to nod stiffly to his host. “I’ll tell the king that you’ll have an answer for him in two months, then. I think he’ll be willing to wait until then.”
“He’d better,” Dram replied, lowering his voice to a growl. “We’re not without allies, or weapons, here in New Compound.”
“Now, now, Dram. I’m sure there’s no need to be thinkin’ along those lines. At least, not if you can keep Swig out of the room. Good day.”
Dram was holding his own mug, barely touched, when Sally came in a few minutes later. She looked around the empty sitting room. “He’s gone? What about dinner?”
“Turns out he didn’t have much of an appetite,” Dram said sourly. A moment later he brightened. “But I do,” he concluded, following his wife into a room full of wonderful aromas.
CHAPTER SIX
Blayne Kerrigan slipped through the marshes on the north bank of Apple Creek, no longer churning the waters, instead gliding like a reptile through the shallows. The haste spell continued to propel him with unnatural speed, but it would wear off soon-and by then, he was determined to reach the shelter of the grove along the dry ground just beyond the stream.
Father! He thought of Jaymes Markham’s treachery with anguish. With a backward glance as he raced toward the river, he had seen the bloody blade of the Freeman emerge from the lord’s back. He wished he had imagined it, but the image was too clear, too real.
Lord Kerrigan was dead.
Soon the protective canopy loomed overhead, and the young knight slipped behind a gnarled trunk and rose to his feet. He peered through some branches and saw the men of the Palanthian Legion in their red tunics, probing along the riverbank. A few unarmored footmen pushed into the water, but the muddy bottom prevented them from making much progress, and they quickly floundered back to the far bank. By that time Blayne had already slipped deeper into the grove, wringing the water from his tunic as he padded along in his bare feet-having kicked off his boots when he first entered the water.
He trotted along, still fired with energy. Apple trees surrounded him. Within moments he came upon an archer dressed in a green leather tunic. The man nodded at him as he passed, then looked questioningly over the young knight’s shoulder.
“Lord Kerrigan and the others were taken. The emperor broke the parley,” Blayne said coldly. “I saw my father cut down by one of the emperor’s guards. I think the duke is killed.”
The sentry’s face tightened. “Red Wallace is waiting for you at the Grandfather Oak,” replied the man, his hands clenching his bow and arrow. “And if that is true, then we’ll get revenge for Lord Kerrigan’s betrayal, my young lord. I promise.”
“Thanks, Paddy. I know we will,” Blayne said, touching the sentry on the shoulder as he moved deeper into the grove. He passed other camouflaged men and, though he didn’t speak to them, the expression on his face seemed to communicate the grim news to the whole company waiting in the grove. He made his way through the ancient, gnarled apple trees until he reached a small clearing.
The open area was dominated by a massive black oak, a giant tree that dwarfed all others in the grove. Enormous limbs, heavy with early summer leaves, reached out as if to envelop the place. Great beards of moss hung from the lower limbs, masking the shadowy depths closer to the gnarled trunk. The top of the tree-a scarred and blackened stretch of trunk and twisting limbs, proof of a lightning strike many decades ago-lofted over the clearing like a skeletal monument to age, strength, and tenacity.
A lone man emerged from the mossy enclosure, still half concealed by the shadows beneath the dense foliage. As he stole forward, the crimson shade of his robe became visible in the growing light. Tiny images of silver and gold winked from the soft material, which included a hood that covered his head and concealed his face in its deep cowl. As Blayne approached, however, the Red Robe pulled back his hood and looked at him with penetrating eyes.
“The emperor took your father at the parley,” the man declared, without preamble.
“Worse. He killed him; I saw a guard run him through.”
“The bastard! I wouldn’t have believed that even he would stoop so low!”
“His treachery disgraces the knighthood!” Blayne spat. “He promised us safe passage and lured us into his trap.”
“It is a good thing that you were prepared, then,” Red Wallace noted.
“Thanks to you, old friend,” replied the young knight. “Invisible, I escaped their cordon. The haste spell allowed me to swim fast and cross the creek. Else I would be in chains, or worse.” He spat noisily. “They count the White Robes even as their allies! How can those wizards countenance such wickedness?”
Red Wallace shrugged. “Sometimes even the cause of good will follow the path of least resistance. I believe the White Robes-with the lady Coryn at their head-feel the emperor will bring about the kind of orderly and law- abiding nation that holds such appeal for them.”
“Even if they must break the law in order to pretend such a thing?” sneered Blayne.
“Did you get a look at them-the machines, I mean?” asked the wizard, changing the subject.
“Yes. They were the ugliest contraptions I have ever seen: nothing but great hollow tubes, black ironwood banded with steel. They’re carried about by these massive wagons-I’m sure they have to be hauled by oxen.”
“Do you think it’s true-what we’ve heard about their power?”
“I can’t be certain. Yet there was something about those black mouths that reeked of destruction, of killing. If they are brought within range of Vingaard Keep, our home, our families, our lives-yes, I know it in my heart, all will be lost.”
Red Wallace grimaced as if in physical pain. Immediately shaking off that display of weakness, he put his hand on the young lord’s shoulder and looked Blayne steadily in the face.
“With your father fallen, it comes to you to ready a response,” he said. “What do you plan to do?”
For just a moment, an expression of consternation, perhaps even fear, flickered across the young man’s face. Then his features hardened to match Red Wallace’s.
“My father’s plan remains in effect. If they try to cross at the ford, we’ll meet them here with a line of pikes. We have a good chance of holding the line at the creek.”
“Aye,” Red Wallace agreed. “But you know they will probably just follow the road on the other side of the stream down to the river. They can cross the Stonebridge and march right up to the keep.”
Blayne nodded. “We have light cavalry in position to harass the emperor, so at least we can slow his progress toward the keep. And we can fight him tooth and nail at the bridge.”
“It can only be a delaying action,” said the wizard.
“Yes, delay and harass,” Blayne replied. He stared through the trees, remembering the scene at the emperor’s camp. In his mind he saw the ranks of soldiers, the herds of horses, the tents and baggage wagons. Above all he remembered the three great war machines, the tubes of the bombards mounted on huge wagons.
