The moons had set and sunrise was still a few hours off as the victors picked their way carefully down the mountain from XimXim’s cave. Tol and Kiya carried the badly wounded Mandes. Miya followed, slowly and painfully, clutching her sides. They saw no one in the gully at the foot of the mountain. Bloodstained rocks and charred earth gave evidence of the battle that had raged in their absence, yet all was quiet now.
Lowering Mandes’s limp body to the ground, Tol cupped a hand to his mouth and shouted, “Juramona! Juramona!”
The bushes stirred, and soldiers emerged. Some had their heads bandaged, or wore an arm in a sling. Seeing their commander, they raised a glad shout.
“The monster is dead!” Tol yelled.
The jubilant noise became a deafening tumult. Waving swords and spears, the soldiers engulfed them. A few ran down the ravine to inform the rest of their comrades. Tol ordered saplings cut to make litters for Mandes and Miya, then slumped to the stony earth. He sat with arms propped on his knees, head hanging tiredly. Something firm pressed against his back. Kiya had adopted the same posture, her back to his. He relaxed slightly against the welcome support.
The defile soon was full of happy, shouting men. The Ergothians cheered Tol so incessantly he gruffly ordered them to cease.
His officers soon got the troops in order. Torches were lit. Tarthan, Wellax, Allacath, and Frez sorted the men into companies and had them lined up in proper formation by the time Egrin arrived with the balance of the demi- horde.
Egrin, Darpo, Sanksa, and Fellen came forward and saluted. Tol lifted a hand and Darpo, his scarred face wreathed in smiles, hoisted him to his feet. Kiya rose as well, on the arm of Sanksa.
“My lord, I rejoice to see you!” said Egrin.
“I rejoice to be seen,” was Tol’s sincere reply.
“XimXim is destroyed?” Tol nodded. “Then this is a great day!” Egrin proclaimed.
In truth, Tol did not find it so. He was very glad to be alive, and happy the Dom-shu sisters and Mandes lived, but he wasn’t exactly proud of his victory.
“It wasn’t a battle, it was a bloody farce,” he growled. “We went up there just to have a look around! We had no plan. We just fought for our lives and managed to win-barely!”
Egrin nodded. “There’s no antidote for victory. It often leaves a bitter taste.” He told Tol of their losses in XimXim’s attack.
Narren’s death hit the young commander hard. He stood with eyes closed until the burning in them subsided.
When the litters were ready, Miya and Mandes rested a bit more comfortably. Frez, who as a boy had apprenticed to a sawbones in Caergoth, wrapped a tight linen bandage around Miya’s ribs. It was the only treatment he knew for her condition. After a few drafts of strong wine, though, the Dom-shu woman fell asleep.
In addition to his arm, Mandes had lost a great deal of blood, but he was still breathing, thanks to Kiya’s timely attention. Frez had a strengthening broth of bone marrow, herbs, and red wine prepared, and a soldier was appointed to spoon small amounts between the sorcerer’s slack lips.
Kiya washed the ash from her hands and face, and ate cold rations from a leather pouch. By this time the rising sun was beginning to color the eastern sky and Tol realized he was ravenous. He cleaned up and broke his fast.
A young soldier brought Cloud. Muscles aching, Tol swung into the saddle. Seeing Kiya limping along, he held out his hand. “Will you ride, lady?”
“A Dom-shu walks,” she replied proudly.
“Get on and spare your feet.”
To everyone’s surprise, she did just that. She cut a curious figure, seated behind Tol. Her arms and legs were covered in cuts and scratches, and she was a head taller than her ostensible husband. At first, she looked uncomfortable on Cloud, but soon leaned her head on Tol’s shoulder and fell asleep.
“What now, my lord?” asked Egrin.
Tol said, “Back to Hylo town. We’ll rest there a day, then march to the coast. By now Lord Urakan should have reached Old Port. The Tarsans will not sit and wait for him to find them. I mean to join our companies to his army.”
“Very good, my lord.”
Egrin gave the orders, and the foot soldiers assembled in marching formation. They should reach Hylo City by late afternoon.
Word of XimXim’s demise spread ahead of the Ergothians. The journey out from Hylo’s capital had been desolate and lonely; the return was like a festival. Kender turned out in droves, lining the road to cheer the Ergothians. Lacking flowers so late in the season, they stripped off the most colorful leaves from nearby trees and spread them before Tol’s horse.
Riding alongside his commander, Egrin said drily, “Victors are always popular.”
Kiya, still mounted behind Tol, eyed the cheering crowd with distrust. “Just keep an eye on your valuables. Kender are even more dangerous when friendly!”
The soldiers did lose equipment to kender “curiosity”-haversacks, gauntlets, a few mantles-but nothing vital. By the time the Ergothians entered Hylo town, the crowds were tremendous. None of the soldiers, not even the oldest and most experienced, had any idea there were so many kender in all of Hylo. Little people cheered from every window, some waving bits of scarlet cloth tied to sticks, like miniature imperial banners. Kender children ran alongside the marching column.
“XimXim is de-ad! XimXim is de-ad!” they chanted, drawing the last word into two syllables.
Their procession bore left into the main square, packed from side to side by the shouting throng. The mob had left a clear lane across the square. It led straight to the door of the royal residence, where Tol halted the column.
“Looks like we’re expected!” Egrin shouted over the din.
Tol nodded. “We represent the empire-let’s pay our respects to the king.” He looked back over his shoulder at the unmoving line of men. “Find Darpo! Tell him to join us up front.”
Soon, the former sailor rode through the double line of soldiers to Tol’s side. Tol raised his hand to signal the soldiers forward. The kender took this as a greeting and let out a high-pitched roar of delight. Tol managed a smile, then waved his men to follow between the two walls of cheering kender.
Hylo’s royal residence was no bigger than any other house on the square. Three stories high, built of cut stone, and half-timbered, the residence was guarded by a detachment of the Royal Loyal Militia. These seventeen kender were dressed in a hodge-podge of military finery-Ergothian iron helmets, Tarsan octagonal shields, mantles in the Silvanesti style. Their weapons were the usual swords and spears, though reduced in size for kender. According to Lord Urakan, the kender imported weapons from the dwarves of Thorin, so the implements were likely made of very good iron and bronze.
Standing at the top of the steps was a fellow slight even by kender standards, almost lost in a long pinkish- brown cape.
“Is that the king?” Tol asked Darpo, but Darpo could only shrug. He had visited various Hylo ports, but had never caught sight of the kender king.
Tol halted Cloud at the foot of the steps. Kiya dismounted and stretched, her limbs unused to riding. Tol tried to mask the exhausted tremor in his own muscles. At his order, Egrin, Darpo, and Kiya joined him in climbing the steps of the royal residence. The tiny kender in the cape resembled a wooden doll, his face seamed with a thousand fine cracks and his long white hair pulled back in a tight bun.
The crowd quieted somewhat. With a respectful nod, Tol said, “Do I have the honor of addressing Lucklyn, king of Hylo?”
“You have more honor than that,” said the wizened kender. “I’m Casberry, the queen. Lucklyn’s gone on a wander and left me in charge.”
Tol and his party knelt. “Forgive me, Your Majesty!”
The queen cackled. “Never mind. At my age, I don’t mind being mistaken for a king. It’s better than being
