the wicked, slender blades of the elves. In mere moments they were slain, and the elves were through to the heart of the wedge of orcs.
Without their leaders, the goblins and orcs dropped their weapons and tried to flee, only to be cut down as they ran. Aosinin heard exultant singing and realized that it came from the elves. More of the goblin troops fled at the sound.
The glowing wave of death caught up with Aosinin’s band and passed on by, and the Truesilver urged his Arabellans to join the flank of the stag riders. One entire wing of the Witch Lords’ army was in flight before them, and individual elves were breaking away to chase down stragglers.
Now the charging elves struck the zombies at the heart of the Witch Lords’ host, troops too mindless to run. Bright blades flashed, and graceful bodies leaned and slashed and rose to slash again in a deadly dance that separated limbs from bodies and forced the dead to fall. In less time than Aosinin would have believed possible, the undead had also fallen beneath the hooves of the rushing stags. The Cormyrean infantry could clearly see what was happening now and raised a great cheer as they hacked at orcs and goblins with renewed heart.
The elven riders swept up to the king of Cormyr, whose mount was picking its way gingerly over a mound of undead and goblin bodies that the royal sword had slain. Galaghard raised his bloody blade in greeting and bellowed, “We appreciate your aid!”
“Aid?” Othorion Keove grinned down from his high saddle. “I said I came here to do some hunting, and when I awoke this morning, I decided I had a taste for orc, goblin, ogre, and undead. Care to ride with me?”
The king spurred his own mount alongside the elf lord’s stag, and together they swept down on the surviving wing of the Witch Lords’ army. It was mired in combat with the Suzail militia, but it shattered like ice as the elves and men bore down on it. Weary Cormyreans from all over the field trotted over to be in at the kill. Few foes of Cormyr would be slipping away from this last stand.
Overhead, the surviving bat riders wheeled and fled into the Vast Swamp. Two were immolated as they flew, but another half-dozen outran the mages and elves and disappeared into the misty bogs beyond, flapping frantically.
Their mounts exhausted from the charge, Aosinin, Galaghard, and the elf lord rode slowly to a low hillock overlooking the battle. Below, the priests of Helm were tending to the human wounded and dispatching dying orcs. Several smoldering piles marked where trolls had fallen, they would have to be immolated later to make their deaths final. Thanderahast landed nearby, his robes bloodied and scorched. He nodded to the king, and Galaghard saluted him formally. Words would be exchanged later, Aosinin knew, about the High Wizard abandoning the knights of the court to pursue his own personal vendetta.
The elf lord turned to the king and said, “A good day’s hunt.”
Galaghard shrugged his heavily mailed shoulders. “It is good to see that Cormyr still offers something suitable to your tastes.”
“It does, in many ways,” said the elf, and then, after a visible hesitation, he rode nearer and laid a slender hand on the king’s arm. “Hear me, human, for I have altogether too much wisdom bought over long and bloody years. It is easy to rule from a distance, but difficult to lead from the front of a battle. It is easy to order, but hard to inspire. It is simple to conquer, but hard to rule. That is why you triumphed this day over the unseen necromancers. I had my doubts as to your fate, and your worth, until I saw one of your brother humans sacrifice himself in the fray to purchase you time. Such loyalty is more precious than all the gold in your vaults.”
“Aye,” said the king huskily, smiling. “And here-” he thumped his chest with one bloody gauntlet-“it is valued more than all the gold in all the cities of humans all over Faerun. I can believe in my power-my just authority-only as long as others believe in me.” He looked at Aosinin.
“You probably don’t know how important this is,” the old elf added, “but I have to say you’ve done a fair job with this tract of land. Iliphar would approve, and probably Baerauble as well.”
“Will you be staying, then?” asked the king. “You will be most welcome, for I shall ensure that all Cormyr knows that the realm survives because of your aid here today.”
The elf waved a dismissive hand. “For a year, perhaps two, we shall abide here,” Othorion replied, “but no true elf can resist the call of Evermeet forever. Yet in these fair forests, I think there will be good hunting for a small while.”
As the three men and the elf went slowly down from the hill, their trembling mounts moving no faster than the walking wizard, men of Cormyr walked about on the bloody field under the bright sun of morning.
The foot soldiers gathered mementos and told their companions about how they’d almost died here, and had hewn that one down over there, and as the tales went on, the tellers were already expanding their heroisms. By nightfall, all of them would have personally rescued the king and led the elves onto the battlefield in the charge that won the day and preserved the realm.
Chapter 21: Spells and Politics
Year of the Gauntlet (1369 DR)
The Royal Magician’s eyebrows rose. “Impressive shielding spells,” he said, watching the three hired mages at work. Two were Calishites, whose sash symbols showed that they were both Exalted Masters in at least two schools of sorcery and the third was a Nimbran. By the looks of the rippling prismatic domes and spell-stop fields they were weaving around the room, any two of them could probably defeat him in a battle of spells. The house of Cormaeril spared no expense in seeing to the safety of its own… or in attempts to impress their Lord High Wizard.
The man he was here to meet inclined his head and smiled slightly-a smile that did not reach to his eyes, which were hard, black, and cold. “One can never be too careful,” he murmured and went on waiting, leaning casually against the wall.
One after another, each of the wizards signaled that his spells were complete. Vangerdahast’s host gave them each the same hand sign in return, and each sat down on a bench facing Vangerdahast, drawing out a pair of wands to hold ready. Their purpose was clear. If the Lord High Wizard didn’t keep to his best behavior during the interview ahead, he would not be Lord High anything for very long.
Vangerdahast smiled slightly, to let his host see that he’d understood the rather unsubtie point, and sat down on a solid bit of nothingness he’d conjured. That opened some eyes over on the bench, none of them had seen him do the necessary casting. Perhaps this old fool was mightier than they’d thought, their eyes seemed to say.
The old fool crossed his legs, leaned back with his behind resting on empty air, and said, “I’m sure you already know why I’m here.”
The cold-eyed young noble lazily pushed himself away from the wall with one boot and set down his slender tallglass of dragondew wine on the ornate table that bore the arms of his family.
“You’d like to proclaim yourself regent of Cormyr sometime during the next two days,” Gaspar Cormaeril replied coolly. “Or has the information reaching me been incorrect?”
“You’ve stated my aim,” Vangerdahast agreed. “I can, and shall probably have to, wait as long as six days or more.” He met Gaspar’s gaze and added, “To achieve this at all, however, I’ll need support. The support of prominent nobles… such as the house of Cormaeril.”
Cold eyes met his steadily. “I’m sure you’re used to a lot of coy and flowery speech, sir mage,” the young noble said, “but I’ve grown enamored of rather more direct talk these days-in particular, when every fleeting breath we take costs me coins.” He inclined his head toward the three watchful mages on the bench. Vangerdahast nodded and spread a hand, indicating that he should continue. The gesture caused at least three wands to lift warily.
Gaspar smiled thinly. “Know then that it is my intention to support you as regent of Cormyr, on a permanent basis if you desire, so long as you meet my conditions. I’m not one of those who hates or fears the idea of a mage- king, in fact, I consider that your lot have demonstrated wise and deft statecraft through the years and may save us all from a lot of the nonsense attendant on the vanity and, er, lustier side of the Obarskyr monarchs.”
Vangerdahast nodded. “I am pleased to hear this. May I know your conditions?”
Gaspar smiled again. “It is a pleasure to work with someone so… practical. My conditions are this: As regent, you must agree to work with a small council of nobles-a dozen or so, no more, whose initial membership I must
