stopped staring at her for one moment.
'Palmaris will be in firm and fine control,' the King went on, addressing the whole of the gathering again. 'Duke Kalas will stay on as ruler, for as long as he feels necessary. Also, because of the continuing hostilities outside of Palmaris' wall with the powries, goblins, and even reports of giant bands roaming the region, he will keep half the AUheart knights. That should suffice to allow the folk of Palmaris some peace of mind.'
Pony glanced at Francis and Braumin and the other young monks, their distress showing her that they understood well the meaning of the King's decision. Danube didn't fear any goblins or powries or giants, for Palmaris' garrison had proven itself time and again in the war against them. No, when the King spoke of potential enemies, he was subtly referring to those enemies Duke Kalas might face from within, particularly from St. Precious. The Allheart knights would make Chasewind Manor a veritable fortress and would strengthen Duke Kalas' influence tremendously.
At first, Pony, too, was more than a little distressed by the news. Privately, at least, she found herself siding with Brother Braumin; she did believe in the man and his cause. That admission nearly made her speak up then, announcing that she had changed her mind and that she would accept an offer to join the Church, not for the position of mother abbess but as an adviser to Brother Braumin in his new position of abbot of St. Precious. Almost-but even as she considered the action, Pony thought of Elbryan and her lost child, thought of the futility of it all, the waste of effort to battle enemies that seemed to her, at that moment, eternal.
She kept silent; indeed, she turned inward through the rest of the meeting. No further surprises came forth, from either Danube or the monks, and their business was quickly concluded. Pony did note the glare that Constance Pemblebury bestowed on her as they were leaving the audience hall, a scowl that deepened tenfold when King Danube took Pony's hand and kissed it, expressing his gratitude yet again for her actions and her sacrifice and proclaiming that Honce-the-Bear was a better place by far because of Jilseponie and Elbryan, Avelyn Desbris and the centaur, Bradwarden, Roger Lockless, and-to Pony's and everyone else's absolute surprise-because of the quiet working of the Touel'alfar.
And then Danube and that moment of gratitude were abruptly gone; the King, Constance Pemblebury, and Duke Bretherford rode forth to the docks and the waiting ships. The reality of the still-gloomy day settled over St. Precious.
A temporary moment of truce, Pony thought as she considered the King's last words to her. A brief shining moment, unlasting in the gloom. Like all such moments.
Pony was on the roof of St. Precious's highest tower again later that day. The spectacle over at the dock section-with the tall ships unfurling their sails, the crowds cheering, the trumpets blaring-did not hold her attention for long. Rather, she found herself looking north, beyond the city's great wall, beyond the farmhouses and the rolling hills. Looking in her mind's eye to Dundalis and her past-and perhaps, she thought seriously, her future.
Chapter 3
The icy rain drummed heavily against the bare trees, blowing in sheets through the forest, soaking Prince Midalis and his army. They had hoped for snow, a great blizzard as so often blasted Vanguard, a storm gathering strength over the Gulf of Corona, drawing up the water and then dumping snow thigh deep throughout the region. But it was just rain this time: icy rain, and miserable to be sure, but nothing that would drive the goblin horde from their entrenched positions around the large, solitary stone structure, St. Belfour, on the small, bare hill amid the trees. The cowls of their cloaks pulled as low as they could go, the young Prince and his closest adviser and confidant, Liam O'Blythe, the Earl of Tir-Mattias, made their cautious way to the rocky ridgeline that afforded them a view of the abbey and of the monstrous army firmly encamped about it.
'There's two thousand o' the skizzes if there's a dozen,' Liam remarked, surveying the scene before them. He was a thin fellow, all gangly arms and legs, freckle faced with red hair and gray eyes, as was common among the Vanguardsmen. 'They got us five to one, even countin' that them monks'll come out and give a hand.'
'A bolt of lightning would be better welcome,' Midalis replied with just a hint of the Vanguard brogue creeping into his Ursal court-trained diction. His crystal blue eyes peeked out from under the edge of the hood, sparkling brightly despite the dullness of the day. When he stood in a room with native Vanguardsmen, it was obvious that Midalis was not from the region. He was of medium height and build, but with a darker complexion and dark brown hair. Anyone who saw Midalis standing beside the older Danube would guess that they were brothers.
'If they got any o' the magic left to 'em,' said Liam, and he pulled off his soaked hood and shook his unruly mop of red hair, running his hand through it to get it out of his eyes. 'They ain't tossed a bolt or a burst o' fire out at the goblins in a fortnight.'
'They've got it left,' Midalis answered with confidence. 'But they know that if they use their magic, they'll just bring the goblins on in full against them. The goblins understand how much the monks have got to throw, and if those in the abbey grow weary from using their magic, they will find a difficult task in holding back the horde.'
Liam nodded, but his expression remained doubting and grim. 'Well, they better have a bolt or two for throwin' when we go against the horde, or we'll be chased off or cut down.'
Prince Midalis did not doubt the man's observations. Vanguard was having a much harder time in the aftermath of the war than the rest of Honce-the-Bear, because in Vanguard, the war wasn't over. The minions of the demon dactyl had hit the region hard, both along the rocky coast and with a force marching across the land. South and west of the Gulf of Corona, the lands were cultivated, and much more heavily populated; and there, the King's army had been able to push the hordes away. But here, where the land was much wilder, where forests predominated over farmland and the population of humans was measured in hundreds instead of tens of thousands, the powries and goblins had not so readily retreated. Always, Vanguard had been the roughest region of Honce- the-Bear, its forests full of huge brown bears and hunting cats, its northern border continually crossed by the warlike barbarian tribesmen of Alpinador. The folk of Vanguard had known goblins and powries as more than fireside tales to scare children long before the demon dactyl had awakened to remind the more civilized regions that such monsters did exist.
And though they were certainly outnumbered by their monstrous enemies in the region, the people of Vanguard knew how to fight such foes.
Still, this was a battle that Midalis did not want; this particular army of goblins was too large and too skilled, and the ground around St. Belfour of Tir-Mattias was too rugged for the Prince's troops to fully utilize their greatest advantage: horses. Thus, Midalis had hoped the dark clouds they had seen gathering over the gulf would bring a killer blizzard, a storm that would weaken the goblins' resolve to continue their siege. 'The weather won't be holdin' so warm much longer,' Liam remarked. Midalis shook his head, his expression grim. 'The monks haven't got much longer,' he explained. 'The goblins have held them in there for near to two months now, and with all the folk who came running before the horde, they've not the food to hold on.' He paused there and stood staring long and hard at the windswept rain slashing against the abbey's stone walls and at the dozens and dozens of sputtering, smoking campfires of the goblin army encircling the place. 'Ye're to go to him, ain't ye? ' Liam asked. Midalis turned to regard him. 'I see no choice,' he answered. 'Abbot | Agronguerre came to me last night, in my dreams, begging for our help. They've a day more of food, and then they'll be going hungry. We cannot j wait any longer.'
Liam's expression showed that he was less than enthusiastic about the j prospects. |
'I'm no more happy about the possibilities than you,' Midalis said to J him. 'In another time, we'd be fighting the barbarian savages, and now I am asking them for help.'
'Help for the Abellican Church,' Liam reminded him, which only made the prospects darker still.
'Aye, there's no friendship between the barbarians of Alpinador and the Church,' Midalis agreed; for indeed, the Church had made many forays into the wild northern kingdom, usually with disastrous results, particularly one not so distant memory of slaughter in a small town called Fuldebarrow. 'But I've got to try, for the abbot and his brethren.'
'And I'll try with ye, me Prince,' Liam said with a nod. 'And all yer men'11 fight beside the demon hisself, if Prince Midalis' naming him an ally!'
Midalis put his hand on Liam's elbow, grateful, as always, for the unyielding loyalty of his hardy men and
