'This is Bruinhelde, who leads Tol Hengor,' Andacanavar explained, holding his arm back and sweeping forward another imposing, stern-faced man, his blond hair tied with feathers and ornaments, his jaw square and strong. It occurred to Midalis that if he ever punched that jaw, he'd do more damage to his hand than to Bruinhelde's face. His eyes were the typical Alpinadoran blue, burning with inner fires.
'Your closest neighbors, they are,' Andacanavar continued. 'Far past the time for you two to meet as friends, I say.'
From the expression on Bruinhelde's face, Midalis wasn't sure that the man agreed with the ranger's assessment. But the powerful barbarian leader did nod slightly and did present his flagon to Midalis for a clap of mugs. Liam started to add his, but Bruinhelde wilted him with a glare.
'Have we?' Midalis asked bluntly.
Bruinhelde looked at him curiously, then turned to Andacanavar. 'Met as friends,' Midalis clarified. 'For so many years, our two peoples have had little contact, and rarely has that contact been on friendly terms.'
'And you place the blame for this on my people? ' Bruinhelde, obviously an easily agitated fellow, roared in reply; and all the Alpinadoran warriors bristled, and poor Liam seemed as if he would simply melt away.
But Midalis kept his eyes firmly on the imposing Bruinhelde. 'Blame?' he asked with a chuckle. 'I would not presume to blame anyone-likely, there is enough of that to go around, and each of the disastrous meetings would have to be judged on its own circumstance. But, no,' he continued as Bruinhelde's look softened somewhat, 'I seek not to place blame, nor to take blame upon my own shoulders, but rather to accept that which has happened and hope to learn from it, that it never happens again. Good Bruinhelde, if the invasion by the minions of the demon dactyl brings a new understanding and alliance to our peoples, then there is a bright edge to the dark cloud. Far too long have we skirmished, to the detriment of both our peoples. Let this night of Hengorot'-Bruinhelde and the others were obviously caught off guard that Midalis knew their name for the mead hall celebration-'forge a new bond between us, one for benefit and common good.' As he finished, he held his mug aloft.
A long and uncomfortable moment slipped past, with Bruinhelde glancing once at Andacanavar, then fixing his stare on Midalis. Another moment slipped by, the mead hall perfectly silent, every man holding his breath waiting for Bruinhelde's answer.
He clapped his flagon hard against Midalis'. 'We could not have picked a better common foe than the smelly goblins!' He roared, and so, too, did every man in the hall, a thunderous battle cry, full of excitement, full of rage. The sheer enthusiasm and volume of that barbarian war cry weakened Liam's knees, and when Prince Midalis looked at his companion he knew that Liam was thinking the same thing as he: they were glad that the Alpinadorans were on their side!
Though he had to go to rally his troops for the morning's battle, Prince Midalis did not leave the mead hall early that night. Nor was he able to escape until after Bruinhelde had poured a dozen flagons of drink down his throat.
'I'm not sure we're better with 'em as friends or enemies,' Liam remarked as the two made their way through the forest, each man as groggy and drunk as his companion. 'Oh, but me head's to hurt tomorrow, before any goblin even clunks me with its club.'
'They'll all awaken with sore heads and tongues of cloth,' Midalis agreed. 'Likely, it will only make them more fierce.'
The mere thought sent a shudder along Liam's spine.
Midalis stopped then and stood with a curious expression upon his face.
'What's it about, then? ' Liam asked. Midalis held his hand up, motioning for the man to wait. A sensation had washed over him, much like the night before, a silent, spiritual cry for help. Abbot Agronguerre, he knew, using the hematite gemstone to reach out to him. It was a subtle call, nothing distinct, an imparting of emotion, of need, and nothing more. Midalis concentrated with all his willpower, trying to reciprocate the call, hoping that Agronguerre, who was floating spiritually about him, would sense his reply. 'In the morning,' he said aloud, for he was unsure of how the gemstone magic worked, unsure of whether the abbot could physically hear him in his spiritual form. 'We will come on against the goblins in the morning.'
'As we already said,' a confused Liam answered, and again, Midalis held up his hand for the man to wait. But the sensation passed, the connection broke, and the Prince could only hope that his friend in the abbey had heard.
'It was Agronguerre,' he explained to Liam. 'He came to me again.' Liam held up his hands, seeming unnerved. 'The magic again? ' he asked, and Midalis nodded. 'What're ye thinkin' our new barbarian friends'11 think o' them monks and their magic?' he asked, for it was common knowledge among the Vanguardsmen that, while the monks considered the magical gemstones the gifts of God, the Alpinadorans mistrusted the powers completely, even spoke of the monkish magic as the work of Fennerloki, the god of their pantheon representing the powers of evil.
'We start the fightin' and the monks loose a fireball from their stone walls, and then Bruinhelde and his boys turn against us and pull St. Belfour down around Agronguerre,' Liam reasoned.
Midalis blew a sigh as he considered the words, but then shook his head. 'The ranger, Andacanavar, knows of the magic,' he explained. 'And so Andacanavar will warn Bruinhelde and the others. They know that we march against goblins besieging the abbey, and yet they join with us anyway.'
'Andacanavar,' Liam echoed with obvious respect. The Prince did not sleep at all the rest of that night. He had seen battle many times in the last months, but always against smaller groups of monsters and always upon a field of his own choosing. This time, he had a large portion of his total army with him, more than three hundred men, and all of the monks in Vanguard were bottled up in St. Belfour. If the goblins won this day, the results for the region would be devastating-it was possible that those remaining men and women here would have to retreat to Pireth Vanguard, perhaps even board the few ships there and sail south across the gulf, surrendering the region altogether.
With the dawn, all weariness left the Prince, and the surge of excitement he found in organizing his soldiers erased his sore head from the night before. 'None to be seen,' Liam O'Blythe reported a short while later. 'Not a barbarian in the area, by what our scouts're sayin'. Not even their campground.'
Midalis stared out into the forest. 'Are they sure? '
'Can't find them,' Liam confirmed sourly. 'Might be that they changed their minds and went away.'
'Or that they're preparing an attack from a concealed position,' Midalis said hopefully.
'And are we to wait? '
Midalis spent a long while considering that. Should he wait for Andacanavar and Bruinhelde? Or should he trust them, and begin the attack now, before the sun had climbed into the sky, as he and Andacanavar had discussed? He recalled Abbot Agronguerre's spiritual plea and knew that those within the abbey were going hungry this day. He and his men had to go against the goblins soon or lose the abbey, but with so much at stake…
'We go,' he said firmly.
'We'll be outmatched if Andacanavar-'
'We go,' Midalis said again. He flattened the parchment map of the region, which lay on the small table in his tent. Midalis had trained in tactics with the Allheart Brigade during his days in Ursal, had learned to recognize his strengths and his enemies' weaknesses. He knew that his men could outfight goblins two to one-more than that if they could bring their horses into play. But the numbers today were far less favorable than that.
Midalis studied the map, focusing on the clear area around the abbey and on the rocky, forested hills to its west. At the least, he and his men had to get some supplies into the abbey.
The Prince nodded his head, settling on a plan. He called together all of his commanders, and within the hour, the Vanguard army was on the move.
'He heard yer call, did he?' the nervous young Brother Haney asked Agronguerre, joining the old abbot in St. Belfour's bell tower, which afforded them a view of the area. The rain had stopped, the stars fading away as the eastern horizon began to lighten with the coming dawn, but the air had turned much colder, leaving an icy glaze on the grass and trees.
Abbot Agronguerre stared out past the goblin campfires. He understood the depth of the disaster here; they were out of food, already with growling bellies, and they needed Midalis to come on in force. But Agronguerre knew well the limits of the Prince's army and knew that, even if Midalis attacked with every available soldier, the odds were against them. Even worse, Agronguerre couldn't honestly answer Brother Haney, for he simply did not know.
