Experience has taught the Alliance that this was the case.
As the crusading army has moved east, following the retreating horde, it has met with little resistance. Pockets of Tuigan warriors, broken from the main column, have made valiant stands against our forces. Yet flight seems the more common strategy for the tiny bands of Tuigan. As soon as they spot the Alliance, they hurriedly break camp and ride away, pushing their swift ponies to the limits of endurance.
Of great relief to Azoun's generals, too, is the civil war that is obviously tearing at what remains of the Tuigan army. Princess Alusair, with the aid of the falcon and magical bracelet given her by the centaur chieftain, has been able to keep careful track of the barbarians. The sons of the khahan seem to be locked in bitter contention with one of the horde's generals, Chanar Ong Kho. More small bands of warriors break off every day and disappear into the open plains of Thesk.
A few of the barbarians captured in the Second Battle of the Golden Way are released each day to join these groups of fleeing comrades. 'The Tuigan are prisoners from a war that's over,' Azoun told his generals. 'There is no reason for us to prevent them from going home, as we all will soon do.'
Thom paused to study the page he'd just completed. Apart from the single blotch where he'd marked over his comment about the king, the sheet was neatly crammed with tight, controlled handwriting. He laid the paper flat to dry, then started a new page.
Even without fighting, traveling through Thesk has not been easy for the Army of the Alliance, and the going promises to be harder still the farther east we go. Few of the fields have been cultivated in the wake of the invasion, and the retreating barbarians have been killing much of the game. Food, while not terribly scarce, is still a concern, since the army's supply lines grow longer each day and more vulnerable to attack from other dark forces in the area.
The villages along the Golden Way are deserted, and most have been pillaged by the Tuigan. Where the peasants simply abandoned their homes, some of the structures remain intact. In towns and villages where the people made a stand-
Sadly Thom looked around at the interior of the shattered farmhouse. The cottage was one of the only buildings left on the outskirts of the town of Tammar. The thatch that normally covered its roof had been pulled down in many places, perhaps as food for hungry Tuigan horses. The furniture was little more than splintered fragments, and even the hut's wooden door had been smashed in. If any other possessions once lined the walls of the cottage they were gone now, but whether the peasants or the barbarians had taken them Thom would never know.
The bard closed his eyes for a moment, then glanced at the parchment. The carnage left in the horde's wake would have to be noted, but not today. Such dark topics were best left for other times, days when the sun wasn't shining so brightly and the late summer air wasn't so warm and relaxing. Thom blew the partially finished page dry, gathered the other sheets he'd finished that morning, and tucked them under his arm.
I think it's time for a walk, he decided as he collected his pens and the rest of his writing tools. Then I'll head back to town and get something to eat.
With full intention of carrying out that simple plan, the bard stepped over the broken doorjamb. Being free of the crooked, shadow-heavy cottage made him feel better than he'd expected, so he whistled a bright tune and set off in no particular direction.
'Well met, Master Bard,' called a voice from behind.
Without turning around, the bard knew that it was King Azoun who had hailed him. When he did look, Thom wasn't surprised to see that Vangerdahast accompanied the king. The presence of a third person-a little, bald Khazari priest who'd been captured in the Second Battle of the Golden Way-did make him pause for an instant.
Koja, as the bard had come to know the Tuigan historian and former advisor to Yamun Khahan himself, strode beside King Azoun. Though he had been captured in the last battle, he wasn't really a prisoner, for the king had offered the man his freedom long ago. Koja had asked to stay with the Alliance, claiming that there were many Tuigan who would gladly see him dead now that the khahan was no more. His sincerity in this had been obvious, so Azoun let him stay.
'Interesting news, Thom,' the king said happily. From the expression on Azoun's face, the bard could tell that it was at least partially good news, too.
Vangerdahast, still aged from the affects of the magic-dead area, tottered along beside Azoun. The wizard, once rather hale and hearty for a man in his eighties, now looked tired and haggard. His face was a nest of wrinkles, and his hands quivered slightly. The wizard clutched a staff, and his weight drove its tip into the ground with each plodding step.
'We're finally going home,' Vangerdahast said before Azoun could elaborate on his comment.
For a moment the fact didn't register in Thom's mind. He stood, slack-jawed and staring, as Azoun nodded to confirm the wizard's claim. 'B-but, the Tuigan,' he stammered.
Vangerdahast smiled, an act which made his eyes disappear into the mass of wrinkles around them. That pleasant expression almost astonished Thom as much as the news, for Vangerdahast had been in an understandably sour mood ever since his longevity spells had been nullified. 'I've just received word from Fonjara Galth-you remember her, eh, Thom? The witch from Rashemen?' Thom nodded and the wizard continued. 'Her cronies finally closed the route between the Horse Plains and the West, the one through the Lake of Tears.'
'And the Red Wizards who had attacked Rashemen after the Tuigan had stormed through that land have now retreated south, back to their own borders,' Azoun added. 'Thesk, Rashemen, and the other local armies can put their full attention into routing the remaining barbarians.'
The Khazari priest had been standing silently to the side during the conversation. Now, however, he bowed to Azoun and said, 'I do not wish to contradict you, Your Highness, but I will repeat what I told you earlier: I do not believe the Tuigan will be dealt with that easily. It is far more likely that the majority of the army will scatter throughout Thesk rather than return to the Horse Plains. They will be as difficult to catch as the wind itself.'
'But their families?' Azoun said. 'Their homes-'
'They're nomads, Your Highness,' Thom noted, a look of concern on his face. 'Families and homes mean little to them.'
Koja rubbed his bald scalp in slight agitation. 'Before Yamun Khahan gathered the various tribes together, they lived by raiding and pillaging each other's camps and the trade caravans that passed through the Horse Plains.' He looked around at the open grasslands that surrounded the Theskan town of Tammar. 'This is good grazing land, and it is populated so sparsely that they will be able to elude the armies that hunt them.'
Vangerdahast's smile vanished. 'That's not our problem,' he grumbled.
After a short silence, Azoun agreed. With Thay abandoning its plans of conquest and the Tuigan on the run, the Army of the Alliance could return to the Heartlands. 'Our responsibility is fulfilled,' the king noted, and the four men set off for the center of Tammar, where the majority of the army was billeted.
'Your Highness,' Koja said as they walked, 'what was your impression of the khahan?'
The question took the king by surprise, and after recalling their brief meeting, Azoun shrugged. 'He seemed to be quite intelligent. No,' he corrected quickly, 'not that. Wise, perhaps. And very driven. Why do you ask?'
'When I was first sent to the Tuigan capital of Quaraband, I was to report back to my prince, tell him what the khahan was like' the priest replied. 'I burned those notes long ago, but I think I might try to put something about Yamun Khahan on paper.' After a pause, Koja added, 'Master Reaverson tells me you are interested in history. Perhaps you will read these notes if I write them?'
'Of course,' Azoun said, turning to face the priest. Koja was looking at the shattered road, however, and a wistful smile clung to his lips. 'You will miss the khahan, won't you?'
'I was his anda,' Koja said wistfully, then scowled. 'I don't know if I can translate anda into your tongue- friend, perhaps, is closest.' He cast his gaze to the clear blue sky. 'Yamun chose the perilous path on his own, however. He chose to be a great man.'
Sentries greeted Azoun as he and the others passed into the fringes of the western camp. Tents and campfires covered the broken streets of Tammar, scattered amidst the ruins of the buildings. Soldiers relaxed. A few loud groups sang bawdy songs, while others played at dice. Discipline was lax, perhaps too much so, but the men had fought and marched hard since arriving in Thesk, and Azoun knew that they deserved a rest.
'Is that the philosophy of your land?' the king asked as he passed a group of archers testing their skill against a blackened post. 'That a man chooses to be great?'
The priest answered without hesitation, and Azoun noted the pedantic tone Koja's voice took on as he spoke.
