"Your name, Herald?" an authoritarian voice demanded in bass tone.
"Stoat, Herald of the dreaded dwarf Lord Obmi, the faithful servant of the Lord of Ancient Evil, Iuz!" Gord replied in his best formal manner.
"Hail, Herald of the dwarf Obmi. You are come to the Host of Iuz. I am its general, Ormuz, and you may report all to me. Where is Obmi? And does he carry the object which Our Master desires?"
"I am your servant to command, General Ormuz of the Host of Iuz," Gord intoned formally in reply, trusting that no absolute ritual was prescribed for such a meeting. "The Lord Obmi is but a short way south of here, awaiting the meeting with you. He is carrying… the object, I believe."
"Believe? You are Obmi's own herald, and you do not know with certainty if the object of all… this is borne with your lord?"
"My post is new, Lord General Ormuz, and my Lord Obmi is most careful. Details are better left to such ones as you and he."
"This is well said, Herald Stoat – I think I concur with Obmi's selection of you for the role, even though it be but a recent appointment. After this whole affair is concluded, come to me and we will discuss possibilities of service." So saying, the hooded and cloaked Ormuz dismissed Gord and rode past.
Ignored, Gord simply turned his horse and rode with the procession of underlings that followed the leader of the host. He was surprised when the procession he was now part of turned to the west, veering away from Obmi's camp a mile or two to the southeast. A dark woman in rusty-red clerical robes riding beside him spoke to Gord.
"No wonder Lord Ormuz was so pleased with your unexpected arrival," she said. "We are near the Gathering Place, and now Obmi can report to us while Lord Ormuz sits in proper state!"
Gord simply murmured a noncommittal reply and rode on. Perhaps a few hundred advance guards and scouts preceded, the head of the horde. They not only made certain that no enemy was lurking nearby, but cleared the way and now fired great torches to light the path. Flankers likewise chopped at brush and kept the column in some semblance of order. The whole of the force must stretch for miles northward. The forest pathway was narrow. Three horsemen or possibly four could ride abreast along its narrowest parts.. Gord could not calculate how long the tail of this army must be, but it made his head reel to think of it. Their way had been overgrown with scrub, but the advance had cleared it easily enough. The trail was wider here, and it was growing broader all the while. They had entered the neck of a funnel and were now moving toward its mouth, he analogized. The flaring torches illuminated a large area of grassland ahead.
"Lady cleric," Gord said, leaning close to the dark woman, "I must take my leave now, for Lord Obmi must be informed of where he is expected to meet Lord Ormuz. Is there some password I must use to ride back to the east and south?"
Having overheard the words of Lord Ormuz regarding this fellow's future with the archmage, the woman was eager to make him her friend. "Sir Herald, I am the Priestess Leilah. You may call upon me anytime," she said, and she shot Gord a seductive smile that conveyed the meaning she had more in mind than information or social pleasantries. "The utterance of Lord Ormuz' name is sufficient to pass through the lines, but perhaps you should have this as well," Leilah said as she took a large pin from her cloak and handed it to Gord.
He saw it was a bronze device enameled in the colors of Iuz – black, white and red. A circle confined a triangle which, in turn, bore a reversed pentagram. The circle was a black snake biting its own tail. Its field was white, as was the pentagram inside the red field of the triangle. "My thanks, priestess. You may likewise call upon Herald Stoat," Gord said, and he sent her a glance that promised much. Then he turned his steed and began to work his way back against the press of the throng.
Gord said nothing until he neared the narrow entry to the area Leilah had identified as the "Gathering Place." He supposed it was a rallying point for assembly of forces to raid and make war. They must be nearer to the realm of Iuz than he had thought. The neck was crowded with troops marching into the area. The unit entering happened to be a well-disciplined company of xvarts, little humanoids with big heads and bluish skin. These were evidently the baggage train escorts, for Gord could see carts and pack animals along the trail behind them. Reining his horse to the right as far as possible, he began to ride by the little humanoids, shouting "Make way for the Herald of Lord Obmi!" repeatedly at the top of his voice.
The xvarts were unwilling to allow him to pass, but the warning, the badge he showed in his left hand, and the size of his horse intimidated the evil-looking creatures sufficiently for them to give a grudging path along the left shoulder of their column. Clucking his mount to a trot, Gord managed to clear the bottleneck just before the mass of baggage clogged it fast. It would take nearly an hour before it was past and the next unit of troops entered. At this rate, it would be noon before the whole force was settled in the open space. This offered hope!
Several ogres blocked the pathway about a bowshot's distance from the turning he had just negotiated. "Make way for the Herald of Lord Obmi, passing by authority of Lord Ormuz," Gord bellowed in his best voice. All but one of the eight-foot-tall humanoids got out of the path, but the largest hulked in the center of the way, unmoving.
"Where ya goin'?" the creature demanded.
"On official duty by leave of Lord Ormuz," Gord replied with as much disdain in his tone as he could, and he thrust out the badge given him by Leilah. "Out of my way!"
Scratching its louse-infested mop of lank, greasy hair, the nearest giant shuffled aside reluctantly, and Gord rode quickly past him, going southward to bring the news to the dwarf of what was transpiring.
Obmi flew into a terrible rage at Gord's report. The dwarf was being upstaged and denigrated by the archmage, and Obmi's fury extended to the one who informed him of this fact. Keak was delighted at the tirade, but for once his demented brain worked to Gord's favor.
"Lord, you are justly wroth," the elf managed to tell Obmi as the dwarf was drawing breath for a fresh string of oaths. "But Stoat is the one who has brought you information which will allow us to slap Ormuz with his own gauntlet!"
"What mean you, Keak?" the livid dwarf replied, withholding his ire as Keak explained his thought..
"Ormuz thinks to prepare a spectacle where he will be richly dressed and enthroned amidst his host, while we come to him like beggars, hats in hand, to report your success. He will then demand custody of the… item you have so cleverly gained and brought to Iuz's very doorstep. He will claim that it will be safer in his care, for Stoat says that there are thousands in the army he commands."
"I know all that," Obmi spat, "and that is why my bile flows so strongly, fool! Is there meaning in your babble, or are you flapping those skinny elvish lips to hear them clap together?"
Keak managed a small giggle at that, but his eyes were hard. He looked down, composed himself, and said, "My Lord, I have a point indeed. Ormuz in his overweening pride and pomp has neglected to send any message to you. Stoat came on his own to tell you of what was happening, although he was not quick-witted enough to see the potential to disgrace your enemy and turn the tables on him!"