Swordmage

TWENTY-ONE

7 Tarsakh, the Year of the Ageless One

The mood of Hulburg was growing ugly, Sergen decided. As his coach rolled and bounced through the streets, he passed by corners and through squares where small knots of disheveled peasants and laborers stood around in their blue hoods, shivering in the cold early-spring mists and rains that had settled over the town. Angry glares followed his coach, and sometimes a fist was shaken in his direction. Of course most of the rabble had no idea who was in the fine carriage, since his driver and footmen wore no House colors other than that of the Council Watch, and he kept his curtain drawn. But the mere fact that he was riding in a fine coach marked him as a man of wealth and power, and in Hulburg that signaled an affiliation with foreign merchants. That was sufficient to draw the ire and resentment of Hulburg’s commoners these days.

His driver flicked the reins, and the coach jerked ahead as the team picked up its pace to climb the causeway leading up to Griffonwatch. Several other coaches and carriages crowded the lower courtyard of the castle; the harmach still had power enough to command immediate attendance when he called his council to attend him. Sergen scowled in annoyance. This summons had come only an hour after sunrise, such as it was on this gloomy day, and he had still been in his bed. “A few more days, and I’ll see to all such annoyances,” he told himself. The carriage came to a stop, and he rose and let himself out even before his footman could open the door for him. An appearance of haste and concern would be seemly this morning.

“Good morning, Lord Sergen.” One of the castle valets hurried down the steps to take Sergen’s fine fur cape and matching cap. “The Harmach’s Council is assembling now. They are waiting for you.”

“Very well,” Sergen answered.

He swept through the doors of the great hall, ignoring the Shieldsworn there while his own armsmen hurried to catch up with him. The dusty old barn of a banquet hall was about as full as the last time he’d been summoned to a council by his uncle-perhaps thirty or so guards, attendants, and advisors hovered around the eight members of the harmach’s circle. Sergen noted that his stepuncle was already seated on his high seat. He quickened his step to reinforce the impression of haste, and set his face in a tight frown of determination and concern. “Forgive my tardiness,” he said as he took his seat. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting for long.”

“Not at all, Sergen,” the harmach said. “You arrived on the heels of Lord Marstel and Master Goldhead. But now that we’re all here, we should begin immediately. Kara, the floor is yours.”

Kara stood up from her seat at the foot of the table and moved around to stand in the middle of the horseshoe-shaped space. She was fully armored, wearing her long mail coat with greaves and vambraces that were adorned with golden griffons. Her spellscar was hidden under all that metal, of course, but the eerie azure of her eyes gave away her deformity. A shame, Sergen mused… she was otherwise a very handsome woman with a fine figure, and as she was not related to him by blood, she might have made an advantageous match for him to secure his claim. On the other hand, Kara fancied herself a warrior and a captain, and it might have been difficult or impossible to break her to his will. Of course, he wouldn’t have needed to remain married to her for long to establish the facade of legitimacy, and that was all that was required.

“My friends,” Kara said gravely, “war is upon us. My scouts have discovered the Bloody Skull horde. They’re marching southward even as we speak. As of last night they were less than twenty miles from the northernmost of our watchtowers, which places them about thirty miles from Griffonwatch. The Bloody Skulls will reach our outposts tomorrow evening, descend into the northern end of Winterspear Vale, and arrive here near sunrise of the day following. We may see bands of marauders and pillagers in the Winterspear as early as tonight.

“We’re not certain of the Bloody Skulls’ numbers, but we’ve seen at least two more tribes marching with them-the Red Claw goblins and the Skullsmasher ogres. There may be more we haven’t encountered yet. My scouts believe the horde numbers at least two thousand warriors, and it may be twice that.”

“How could so many orcs approach so closely without being seen?” Master Assayer Goldhead demanded.

“The weather’s favored the Bloody Skulls for several days, Master Goldhead. The rain has hidden them well. And I fear that several Shieldsworn scouts likely found the Bloody Skulls but were caught before they could return and report. At least four are missing.”

“Can you stop them, Lady Kara?” the wizard Ebain Ravenscar asked.

“No, my lord,” Kara said. “Not without help. The Shieldsworn number two hundred. We can harry their advance with cavalry, but if we try to hold in the face of that horde, we’ll be swept away.” She looked at Sergen and then around the other faces at the table. “However, the mercantile concessions hold hundreds more trained and well-armed mercenaries. With their aid I think I might be able to prevent the Bloody Skulls from entering the Winterspear Vale.”

“What of this so-called Moonshield militia we’ve all seen on the streets lately?” Darsi Veruna asked. “It seems to me that there are hundreds of brave men ready to fight standing around on the town’s street corners.”

Sergen fought to keep a smile from his face. That was certainly one way to thin the ranks of the overly zealous Hulburgans. He hadn’t imagined any such possibility might arise when he’d intervened, so to speak, in the negotiations with the Bloody Skull messengers. It was simply an unlooked-for reward of a daring plan, executed carefully and well.

“I’ll ask them to give me what help they can, Lady Darsi,” Kara answered. “But the Spearmeet is a militia. They’re not anywhere near as well-trained, experienced, or well-equipped as the guards your House or the other Houses retain. I hope to use the Spearmeet to deal with marauding bands that might slip around our main defenses and to form a last reserve if things go poorly at the tower line.”

Maroth Marstel climbed to his feet. “All of Hulburg is threatened by this vast horde, and so all of Hulburg must give answer!” he thundered. “My House employs eighty armsmen, Lady Kara. They’re at your disposal for the duration of this crisis. And furthermore, I shall be glad to serve as a commander of the cavalry. I may not be as agile or strong as I once was, but I can still lead men into battle!”

Sergen wondered when exactly the old windbag had ever seen a battlefield, but he kept his thoughts to himself. Instead, he decided to rescue Kara from trying to figure out how to accept Marstel’s troops but decline his leadership by standing up himself. “The Merchant Council recently reached an arrangement with the Icehammer mercenary company,” he said smoothly. “We intended to employ the Icehammers to combat piracy and brigandage along the coasts and roads near Hulburg, but clearly the Bloody Skulls present an imminent threat. I believe that the Icehammers number close to two hundred and fifty highly experienced dwarf and human veterans.”

A chorus of whispers broke out among the spectators behind him, but Sergen paid them no mind. Kara stared at him suspiciously but said nothing, and Sergen could feel the harmach shift in his seat a few feet behind his right shoulder. Across the table, Lord Marstel bowed toward him. “Bravo!” he declared.

“Moreover,” Sergen continued, “I’ll relay my dear sister’s request for additional troops to the Double Moon Coster, House Sokol, and the Jannarsk Coster. I cannot speak for them, of course, but I am confident that they can contribute two hundred more armsmen among them.” He glanced at Darsi Veruna, smiled slightly, and sat down again.

Lady Veruna made a small face and motioned with her hand. “A hundred and twenty more from House Veruna,” she said calmly. “I am afraid I must reserve some of our strength to protect our camps in the Galena foothills.”

Kara nodded graciously to the mistress of House Veruna. “My thanks, Lady Darsi,” she said.

The harmach spoke next. “Kara, by my count, that puts you at close to nine hundred warriors, not counting the militia. Do you think you can meet the Bloody Skulls with those numbers?”

The castellan fell silent and considered her answer. “I think so,” she finally said. “If Hulburg had a city wall I would be inclined to simply defend the city, but since we don’t, I want to meet the Bloody Skulls as far from town as possible and still gain some advantage of terrain. The watchtowers at the north end of the Vale offer our best position. There aren’t many good paths to bring an army down from the Highfells to the Vale floor. But that means we must move at once to get as many warriors as possible to the towers by tonight or tomorrow morning.” She paused, examining her own thoughts again, and added, “The show of a strong defense may be enough to deter the Bloody Skulls-or the tribes allied to them. Neither the Red Claws nor the Skullsmashers will be eager to die for Warlord Mhurren. I’d guess he promised them plunder, so it’s possible that he’ll give up and look for some easier target once he sees that we’re ready for him. As far as I know, we’ve delivered no mortal insult or wronged him in some manner that he would feel compelled to avenge.”

That might prove important, Sergen realized. He glanced at Darsi Veruna and found her looking at him. He’d delivered exactly such an insult in the process of making sure that the Bloody Skulls supplied Hulburg with the threat he needed. Well, if matters took an unexpected turn, and he found that he needed to throw up a breakwater against the horde he’d baited to attack the harmach, he still had one more piece he could move on the board-Aesperus. Sergen thought he knew the price of the King in Copper, and he doubted that the lich’s minions would care much about being outnumbered by the Bloody Skulls and their allies.

That raised the interesting question of whether he’d rather see the battle won or lost. A complete debacle would not be good; he was reasonably sure of Aesperus’s aid, but he’d rather approach the lich with a request for a moderate amount of aid rather than beg the lich to spare Hulburg from disaster. No, the best outcome would be a hard-fought victory in which the Bloody Skulls were turned back without the aid of the King in Copper… especially if the armsmen of the other merchant companies suffered heavily in the fighting.

“It seems that time is of the essence,” the harmach said. He stood up slowly, and the other lords and officers got to their feet as well. Sergen rose smoothly and waited for his uncle to finish. “Kara, prepare the Shieldsworn for departure as quickly as you can. Those of you who have promised your armsmen, you must have your troops ready to march within hours. Only by concerted effort will we be able to avert this new and deadly threat. Now, go! And may the gods look kindly upon our defense.”

The assemblage broke up and dispersed, with a dozen conversations beginning at once as the various lords and officials began to make their way out of the hall. Sergen shifted the position of the rapier at his hip and turned to go as well.

“One moment, Sergen.” The harmach limped closer, leaning on his heavy walking stick. “I wish to have a word with you.”

There was little that Sergen cared to discuss with his uncle at the moment, but he was standing in Griffonwatch, and there were still dozens of onlookers in the hall. He nodded and gave his stepuncle a conciliatory smile. “I have much to do if I am to persuade the other merchant companies to dispatch their soldiers with Kara,” he said. “But if it’s important to speak now, then I am at your disposal, Uncle Grigor.”

“I will not detain you for long, Sergen. Before you leave, we must settle this question of Geran’s imprisonment by the Merchant Council.”

“I fear that’s not a question we can quickly settle. It’s a complicated issue.”

“I fail to see why it is so complicated, Sergen. I’ve examined the law carefully, and I see no basis under which the Merchant Council can hold or try someone whose offense occurs outside the strict physical boundaries of the concessions. Is there some dispute over where exactly Geran and Captain Urdinger fought? If there isn’t, then it’s a matter for the harmach’s justice, not the council.”

Sergen grimaced and lowered his voice, moving closer to his uncle. He’d been expecting this for a day or two and knew how he wanted to respond. “I have much the same understanding, Uncle. But the Verunas are frankly beyond all reason at this point. They’re threatening dire repercussions if their calls for justice are ignored.”

Harmach Grigor frowned. “Dire repercussions? What do you mean?”

“I’m not sure, but I believe Lady Darsi may go so far as to completely vacate Veruna’s interests in Hulburg and then use her influence in Mulmaster to have the High Blade embargo all trade bound to Hulburg. I hardly need to describe what a disaster that would be. Mulmaster accounts for almost half our trade. We would be ruined within a month.” Sergen spread his hands helplessly. “As long as a threat such as that is hanging over our heads, I didn’t dare to defy her.”

The old lord grimaced and shot a dark look at Darsi Veruna, who was leaving the hall with her attendants and guards around her. She glided out the door with her valets hurrying to drape a stole around her neck, oblivious to the conversation at the foot of the harmach’s seat. “Darsi Veruna doesn’t have the right to tell us who to try and under what laws,” Grigor said firmly. “This is a matter for Hulburg’s justice, not her personal vendetta against Geran.”

“Well, that’s the problem. She believes that Geran will escape justice for his crimes because he is your nephew. Frankly, she doubts whether Geran would ever be brought to trial.”

“I have never allowed any member of the family to ignore our laws.”

“Until she sees Geran convicted and punished in some suitable manner, I am afraid she won’t believe that, Uncle.”

Grigor looked sharply at Sergen. “I won’t allow Geran to commit crimes and go unpunished, Sergen, but neither will I convict and punish him if he’s innocent of wrongdoing-regardless of what Darsi Veruna may think. If Geran is fairly acquitted, he will go free. If not, he’ll pay the same price any criminal would. And to make sure that there is no appearance of favoritism, I’ll delegate the harmach’s decision to High Magistrate Nimstar. But this is not a matter for the Merchant Council, Sergen.”

“House Veruna won’t be pleased by that.” Sergen tapped his finger on his chin, affecting a moment of serious thought. “What about this? Imprison Geran here in Griffonwatch and charge him under the harmach’s law as is right and proper, but appoint the Council Watch to guard him? As long as Darsi Veruna is reassured that Geran is indeed confined and that charges will be read against him, she may relent on her insistence that the council must hold him. I believe I can persuade her to accept that.”

The harmach stood in silence for a long moment, and then he nodded. “Very well. I’ll send someone to make arrangements with the council. But Sergen-regardless of whether Darsi Veruna agrees or not, Geran will be removed from Council Hall.”

“That might be-”

Grigor slashed his hand across his chest. “If Veruna wants to invite me to confiscate their property and re-let their leases to other merchant costers, then I’ll gladly do so.” The harmach turned and stomped away as best he could, striking his stick forcefully to the floor with each stride.

Sergen watched him retreat, mildly impressed. He wouldn’t have suspected that the old man had a glint of fire in him. Why, the harmach was positively reckless! It was not like Grigor to let anger get the better of him.

He gathered his guards to him with an absent motion of his hand and left the harmach’s hall to climb back into his coach. In a few moments the coach rolled back down the castle’s causeway and started through the streets as Sergen carefully thought through what needed to happen in the next few days. He decided he was committed to his decisions and spent the rest of the ride to Council Hall presenting himself with hypothetical misfortunes and determining his response to each.

The coach rocked to a stop, and his footman opened the door. Sergen climbed out and said, “Remain ready. I’ll be leaving again in a quarter-hour. And tell the watch captain to ask Captain Icehammer to join me in my chambers immediately.”

“Of course, Lord Keeper,” the man answered. But Sergen had already passed him by, bounding up the steps to Council Hall. He swept into the room that served as his office and found that his clerks had left him several letters and contracts to approve. None were particularly urgent, but he examined them simply to occupy himself while he waited for the mercenary captain.

He didn’t have to wait long. Before he’d finished looking over the third letter, Kendurkkel Ironthane knocked on the door and entered. The dwarf tromped in, took a seat in a chair by the hearth, and commenced to tap out the ashes from his pipe. “You sent for me, Lord Sergen?” he asked.

“I did,” Sergen answered. “I assume that you’ve heard rumors about the orc horde marching on Hulburg?”

The dwarf laughed harshly. “It’s no’ far from the minds o’ many folk this morning. No one talks ’bout anything else.”

“I’ve told the harmach that I’ve retained the services of the Icehammers. I want you to march with the Shieldsworn and help to defend Hulburg from the Bloody Skulls. I believe that contingency is already covered under our existing arrangements.”

“I expected so much,” Kendurkkel said. “However, I’ll be remindin’ you that a share o’ the plunder from the field o’ battle belongs to me company.”

“Of course. You should prepare to march immediately, Captain-the Shieldsworn hope to defend the watchtowers at the north end of the vale, and my dear sister Kara intends to move her forces there by tomorrow morning.”

“Am I answerin’ to her orders?”

Sergen thought about that for a moment. “Unless Kara’s orders are clearly inept or otherwise unacceptable, yes,” he said. “Do your best to do as she asks, and give her the benefit of your experience and counsel. I’m sending you to make sure that the Bloody Skulls are stopped before they reach Hulburg, and I want you to do what you think is needful to accomplish that goal.”

The dwarf nodded. “All right. If there’s nothing else you’re needin’, then, I’ve got a lot t’ do in the next few hours.”

“There’s one more thing,” Sergen said. “I’ll need about thirty of your men-most of them humans-for a special assignment here in Hulburg, a very sensitive assignment. I’ll need them to be waiting at the Dareth storehouse on East Street by noon on the tenth. It would be best if they arrived in small groups, scattered over the morning, and didn’t wear any identifying colors or insignia.”

The dwarf chewed on his pipestem and eyed Sergen thoughtfully. “Will me lads be livin’ through your special assignment?”

“Yes, in fact, it’s important that they do. But I’m afraid they will have to leave town immediately afterward. I plan to have a ship ready to leave at first light for that purpose.”

“All right. I’ll give ’em orders t’ make their way back to Thentia or Melvaunt after you’re done with them.” Kendurkkel leaned forward and took his pipe from his mouth, pointing the stem at Sergen. “Now, just so we see eye t’ eye, m’lord: Exceptional missions an’ arrangements o’ that sort demand an exceptional bonus. I need t’ know what you’ve got in mind for me lads.”

Sergen bowed his head in acquiescence and spread his hands. “Well, Master Kendurkkel, it seems that House Veruna is going to do something terrible three nights from now. Your men are going to make sure that everyone knows who was responsible.” After all, he added to himself, he wouldn’t want to become harmach while he was so deeply indebted to Darsi Veruna.