“Um… understood?”
Bellok eyed him, clearly not believing, but then turned to the chest and carefully opened the lid. Jerico leaned forward, curious to see what the fuss was about.
“Rocks?” he said. “I must confess, Bellok, I expected something a little more… impressive?”
The look the wizard gave him made him feel like a child, and he started to blush.
“Rocks,” Bellok said, his voice flat. “I spent all night casting spells, turning these into our one slim hope of victory, and you come in and call them unimpressive rocks? Do you think me a loon that guards a few plain stones like they were Karak’s balls?”
“But I-”
“Did you not think for even a moment they might be hidden, or of a magical nature? A wizard’s stash of artifacts, after all, might just be magical.”
“But-”
“And did it not once ever occur to you,” Bellok said, now nearly roaring while jamming his finger an inch away from Jerico’s nose, “that just maybe, maybe, there is an inherent deception involved in the creation of certain artifacts, or that the plain might be infused with the magical, just like your miniscule little brain somehow manages to swing a giant mace to smash other miniscule little brains?”
Jerico stared at him, torn between laughing and running in terror. He started to speak, stopped, watched Bellok narrow his eyes as if anticipating another stupid comment, and then spoke.
“I just-”
“Forget it. Would you like to see what they do?”
Jerico sighed.
“Yes.”
Bellok knelt by the chest and delicately picked up one of the stones. They were about the size of his palm, and smooth on all sides. He gestured for Jerico to follow, and then left the tent with the chest lid still open. Jerico glanced within, saw about twenty more of the stones, and then hurried after.
“Wands and staves are beyond anything Kaide’s men might use,” Bellok said as he led them away from the camp. “But I think even these are within their skills.”
They stopped at the stump of a tree, cut down the night before for firewood.
“Take off your gauntlet,” Bellok said.
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want you to die from too rough of a touch. Gods, how Ashhur puts up with you is beyond me.”
Biting his tongue, Jerico removed his gauntlets and set them aside. Accepting the stone with his bare hand, he was immediately struck by how warm it was to the touch. Bellok pointed to the stump.
“Throw it.”
Jerico wound up and hurled the stone, and only as it left his hand did he realize Bellok had retreated a significant distance. The stone struck the stump, and instead of bouncing off like it should have, it broke into pieces. With a bright flash, the pieces burst into flame. The fire spread rapidly, as if the surrounding area were bathed in oil. Jerico let out a shout at the sudden heat, and he jumped backward. Nearly stumbling, he caught himself, then glared at Bellok’s far too pleased expression.
“Rocks,” the wizard said with a smug grin. “Still unimpressed?”
“Far from it,” Jerico said, looking back. The stump was already black, the fire spreading to the dead grass nearby. The paladin feared a wildfire, but then the wizard raised his hands and whispered words of power. The fire lessened, and then died.
“These will certainly kill a man,” Jerico said, grabbing his gauntlets. “The surprise will be huge.”
Bellok scoffed.
“I would not have them used for something so brutish and simple. I show you a brilliant weapon, and all you can think of is to throw it at the enemy like a child? Think, paladin. Remember the terrain we are to fight on, and where Arthur plans to hold his defense.”
Jerico paused, and then it clicked into place.
“The forest,” he said. Bellok grinned.
“We’ll surround them with fire, leave Sebastian’s men with nowhere to run. With these stones, they’ll find themselves in the midst of an inferno before they even smell a whiff of smoke. Burning them alive may not be honorable, but Sebastian cast aside honor long ago.”
Jerico bit his lower lip in thought. It could work, though he doubted it would be as simple as the wizard hoped. Of course, there was one other major flaw.
“Promise me one thing,” he said.
“What’s that?”
“Adam and Griff don’t get to carry one.”
Bellok finally laughed.
“Perhaps there is some shred of intelligence hidden under that skull of yours.”
“Thanks,” Jerico muttered, following him back to camp.
Once there, the paladin found Kaide grabbing a drink of wine for his parched throat.
“How’d it go?” Jerico asked.
“Were you not there to listen?”
“Afraid not. Was getting lectured by the wizard.”
Kaide shrugged.
“I did my best. We’ll have surprise on our side. Won’t be able to ride our horses, though. Saddles aren’t right for it, and neither riders nor horses are trained. We’ll fight on foot, with knives, clubs, and a few stolen swords. To think this is what I wanted. Should Sebastian turn on us with any real amount of numbers, our line will break like water.”
“Not all of it,” Jerico said, lifting his shield so its light shone across Kaide’s face. “I will be at your side. Your line will not break, so long as we stand.”
Kaide smiled, and it lit his handsome face. It was the first true smile Jerico had seen from him.
“As you say, we’ll make it be. Thank you, Jerico.”
“My pleasure. Just don’t run on me. I’d hate for you to miss your own victory.”
*
Sir Gregane stared across the open field to the distant forest on the other side of the half-mile gap.
“A fair place for a battle,” Nicholls said, looking at the smooth terrain. “Arthur chose well.”
“They were here before us,” Gregane said as he glanced at his vanguard. “We must act carefully. There may be hidden ditches to break our horses’ legs, or tripwire laced between the trees.”
“All that seems a bit low for one such as Arthur.”
Gregane frowned.
“Arthur consorts with brigands and murderers. We cannot assume he has gone unchanged.”
He stared at the field, confident no ambushes lurked there. The grass was too short to conceal a man, and there were no hills tall enough to hide behind. He saw faint whiffs of smoke from the forest, and even at their distance, he could tell the entire army waited within.
“Fighting amid trees,” he muttered. “We’ll need to draw them out.”
“A minor advantage,” Nicholls argued.
“Not if they flee. But first, let’s see if Arthur is willing to submit before any blood is shed.”
Gregane’s vanguard, twenty knights and their mounts, all fully armored, rode with multiple banners waving the sigil of the Yellow Rose. From the forest Arthur rode out to meet them, with only five at his side. They too wore armor, and it shone in the afternoon light. When they were within a hundred yards, Gregane motioned for his vanguard to halt, and then he rode forward alone, as did Arthur.
“Greetings, Sir Gregane,” Arthur said, lifting the visor of his helmet. “Have you come to aid my rightful return as lord of the Yellow Rose?”
“You forfeited that claim,” Gregane said. “Please, Arthur, I ask you to throw down your sword and go home. You can see our numbers. There is no hope for you here, only death.”
“Are those your terms?” Arthur asked. “Disarm myself, and run like a frightened child to cower and hide for
