“Are you talking to me or him?” the centaur asked as he moved smoothly into a canter.
“Both of you.”
Behind the centaur and his rider, a small shape detached from the rock outcropping and flew noiselessly after them.
The ancient elven palace was ablaze with the light of hundreds of torches and watchfires as if the images of Gal Tra’kalas had returned and were holding a gala in the gardens and courts of the long dead prince. Soldiers-mercenaries and Brutes alike-camped in the courtyard, guarded the walls, marched along the paths, and stood sentry at every observation point.
Leonidas gave the palace a wide berth and plunged into the shadows of the gardens. He found his companions on the south edge of the ruins, keeping a watch on the road from the city. After a quick introduction, the two told Linsha what they had learned so far. Their tale impressed her. These three centaurs barely out of colt-hood had survived the battle and managed to avoid capture while spying on the dragonlord and his minions.
Phoulos, a bay with a black mane and beard of sorts, continued. “Thunder is collecting these skulls from his lair on the Plains. We think he’s putting them in the throne room, but we can’t get close enough to look.”
“Did he bring them all in one trip?” Linsha asked.
“No,” answered the third stallion, a lighter bay named Azurale. “He won’t trust anyone else to do it.”
Phoulos snorted. “Or he doesn’t have anyone else to do it for him. Even his own kind avoids him.”
“Right. So, he’s made two trips so far, and he left again just a short time ago.”
Linsha rubbed her face, careful to avoid the bruise by her eye. “So the palace is empty?”
Azurale nodded. “Of him. There’s guards everywhere. His journey usually takes about four hours.”
“That’s plenty of time. If we can get through the tunnels, we can get into the lower levels of the place and take a look at these skulls.” Linsha swung her leg over Leonidas and slid to the ground where she gently put the cat down. “Let’s check the door first.”
She led the way to the tumbled building she knew well now. The entrance was there behind the vines and ferns and undergrowth, unguarded and still open.
The centaurs stared suspiciously at the black doorway. “Don’t worry.” Linsha smiled. “You don’t have to go down there. I will. I just want one of you to guard the door for me.”
But the orange cat hissed at her and blocked the way. No. I will go down there. lean pass through ways you cannot and remain unseen.
Linsha started at the words in her head. “Are you sure?”
The centaurs looked surprised. They hadn’t heard the cat. For an answer, the tomcat flicked his tail and limped into the doorway. In a blink he moved out of sight.
“Interesting cat,” observed Leonidas.
Linsha and the centaurs stood about the doorway in an awkward silence while they tried to decide what to do next. Around them a few insects buzzed in the grass, and a cool breeze swept through the trees. A waning moon gleamed yellow over the hills to the east.
Linsha couldn’t stand the quiet. She had come here to do something, not wait around for Crucible. “Leonidas, you said the Brute general came to talk to Thunder. Is he still here?”
Phoulos answered, “Actually, yes. The Brutes set up a command headquarters in one of the other buildings. The general goes back and forth between here and the city.”
“Hmm. I wonder if he knows-”
“Knows what?” Leonidas said eagerly. “What are you thinking, Lady?”
She studied the centaurs, her expression tight with concentration. “I think we’ll take a look around. Would you be willing to help me?”
All three centaurs nodded vigorously. They had not planned to avenge their kin by running away.
“Good. Then listen.” Talking softly, she told them what she wanted to do.
Finding a mercenary alone proved harder than Linsha expected. All the ones they found still awake and on guard either moved about in patrols or stayed at their posts with their companions. It was a long frustrating time before she and the centaurs saw a mercenary stagger out of one of the buildings and make his way into the woods to relieve himself. Fortunately for them, he had had more than his share to drink and he wandered farther into the groves than he intended. It took only a matter of moments to snatch him, break his neck, and drag him into the undergrowth. Linsha quickly pulled off his tunic with the crude blue emblem on the sleeve, his pants, which were a little too big for her but cleaner than her own filthy clothes, and his boots. He wore leather gauntlets, a broad studded belt, and a padded vest, too, which she added to her disguise. The only thing he did not have was a helmet or a hat, but Phoulos had a leather cap he gave to her to hide her curls. When she was finished dressing, Leonidas declared she looked every bit a mercenary.
Although the man had not been carrying a sword when he wandered to his death, he was armed with a dagger, several throwing knives, and a stiletto in his boot. Linsha kept the dagger and the stiletto, but she gave the slim throwing knives to the centaurs.
“You never know when a knife might come in handy,” she said.
Leaving Azurale to watch the tunnel entrance for Crucible, Linsha and the other two centaurs worked their way over to the southern edge of the gardens not far from the road that led to the palace. They found the Brutes had built a strong encampment fortified with a log palisade and guarded by sentries. Within the ring sat the crumbled foundations of an old building that now supported a large and spacious tent decorated with banners and hung with lamps. Smaller tents clustered around it, leaving a clearing directly in front of the tent where the barbarians had placed a ring of spears, each holding the severed head of some hapless enemy. Guards stood at the gate, at the main tent, and all around the perimeter.
Linsha and the two centaurs looked at the encampment, impressed in spite of themselves.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Phoulos whispered. “You might get in, but I don’t see how you’ll get out.”
Linsha was sure. She had a strong suspicion that this general was intelligent enough to know a great deal about the dragonlord’s activities. There was a good chance they could find some useful information in his tent. But was the chance of information worth the risk? She took a second look with a more discerning eye. If those guards over there had been drunk, asleep, inattentive, or fewer, her scheme might work. But they were alert and heavily armed and left not a scrap of ground within the camp unobserved from some angle. There was no way she could see to get into the general’s tent and out again without being apprehended or killed. Linsha had participated in enough undercover activities to know a bad risk when she saw one.
“Maybe we’d better rethink this,” she said softly.
There was a chorus of ominous creaks and a voice said in coarse Common, “That would be a good idea.”
The companions froze in frightened surprise. All three knew the sound of bow strings being stretched.
“That’s good,” continued the voice. “You are completely covered, so don’t try anything heroic. Just step out onto the path.”
Linsha felt sick. She wanted to kick herself for falling so easily into their hands. She looked up at the two centaurs and gave them a nod. “Don’t,” she whispered.
Ever so carefully Leonidas, Phoulos, and Linsha raised their hands in plain view and walked out of the line of trees onto the path. Half a dozen Brute warriors stepped out of their hiding places, their bows drawn and arrows ready.