Elgo’s eyes were wide, envisioning a vast creature upon a great glittering hoard. Then his vision narrowed, craft squinting out at Ruric. “Why didn’t they just wait until Sleeth went ahunting, and rush inside and close the gates? Or even steal away the treasure while he is gone.”
Ruric looked aside at the wily young Prince. “Ah, my Elgo, Dragons know when strangers are about. ’Tis their magic, some deem, while others think that Drakes smell intruders, or ha’e special eyes, or ears that can hear e’en a feather fall wi’in their demesnes. As to the which o’ it, again I cannot say, but should yer plan be tried, to hide and wait for Sleeth to fly away, the great Cold-drake would but slay those who lurked nigh.
“Too, ’tis said that the very gates of Blackstone are torn asunder-Trent e’en sang o’ it in his bard’s tale-and the Drake would return ere they could be put right.
“Nay, lad, yer plan be canny, yet doomed to fail.”
“What about a great armed force,” asked Elyn, “thousands of Men-could they not overpower even the mightiest of Dragons?”
“Ah, lass, perhaps so,” answered Ruric, “could they keep it on the ground. But Drakes ha’e great flapping wings, and would merely fly above and rain havoc down. And e’en were it kept flightless, still a Dragon is nigh indestructible, and perhaps not even the greatest Host e’er assembled could do the deed.”
“Well then,” mused Elyn, “it sounds as if only Adon Himself could slay one.”
“But He would not, Princess,” averred Ruric. “For when He sundered the ways between the Planes, when He set His Ban upon those who willingly aided Gyphon in the Great War, He pledged to not interfere again in matters upon the Middle Plane, for the power o’ Gods be too great, and they would destroy that which they love. Hence, ye’ll not see the hand o’ Adon slay one, though surely His hand could do so.”
With that pronouncement, Ruric turned again to his work, and after a long moment the twins began trudging back toward the keep, Elyn in a thoughtful mood, Elgo thwarted, still fuming over a way to make Trent swallow his gibe. And as they went inside, Elgo was overheard to say, “The Kammerling may be Black Kalgalath’s Doom, but if I have to devote a lifetime to it, I will be Sleeth’s Doom.”
Thirteen days after Aranor had departed, in the late afternoon a Vanadurin upon a foam-flecked horse with a remount trailing behind came flying ’cross the plains, his black-oxen horn belling: A-raw, a-rahn! A-raw, a-rahn! A-raw, a-rahn! Atop the castle walls a sentry raised his own horn and repeated the cry: A-raw, a-rahn! [A foe, alert!]
No sooner had the call sounded, it seemed, than the Captain of the Daywatch stood at the sentry’s side. Scanning the horizon and seeing nought but the lone horseman swiftly drawing nigh, “Leave the barway open,” came the Captain’s command, “but stand ready.”
In the courtyard below was a mad rush of warriors assembling, among them Elyn and Elgo, juggling arms and armor even as they scrambled forth from their quarters. Swift to the stables they ran, there to saddle steeds and accouter them for battle, with saber and spear-lance and bow and arrow.
They were just beginning to lead their sidle-stepping mounts into the bailey, when the outrider hammered past the gates and through the passage below the barbican and into the forecourt, his black-oxen horn yet sounding, hauling his lathered steed short as he leapt to the flagstones. Ruric stepped to the rider and they spoke in Valur, the warrior words coming swiftly.
“The Naudron, sir,” gasped out the news-bringer, “they encroach upon the Reich, seeking to take back the disputed lands. The King must be warned.”
“Aranor be not here, but Prince Elgo be”-Ruric inclined his head toward Elgo, as the Prince led his horse ’cross the court to join them, followed by Elyn-“and I be War Commander o’ this keep.” The Armsmaster’s voice was measured, calm, seeking to keep order in the young Man’s tale. “What be their numbers, their location, and their seeming goal?”
“Mayhap a hundred crossed Breeth Ford on yestermorn,” came the reply, “heading westerly, perhaps to take the village of Arnsburg, for it lies at the center of their claim.”
“Likely a probe by Bogar to see if Aranor still maintains a watch to defend his own,” Ruric growled.
Ruric glanced at the sinking Sun, just now passing from sight below the top of the ramparts, and turned to the watch commander. “Ha’e the Men stand down, Captain. And join me in War council, Barda too; we need plan a counter to this latest Naudron move.”
The Armsmaster called to a groom to take the outrider’s horse, as well as Elyn’s and Elgo’s, and bade the rider to accompany him. Too, Ruric turned to Elyn and Elgo. “Sharpen yer wits, younglings, and bring yer guile to council chambers, for we must decide swiftly upon how to proceed; an enemy force be upon the Land, and we are undermanned.”
The council consisted of six people: Ruric, Elgo, Elyn, and the bringer of tidings, Arlan by name, and Captains Barda and Weyth, both sturdy Men in their middling years.
Of Arlan’s tale there was not much else to say: The force of Naudron had come upon the Realm at sunrise yesterday, crossing the River Judra at Breeth Ford, and were headed in a westerly direction. As is their custom, they were armed with sabers and bows, and wore leathern armor, and rode upon the small, swift horses of the wild steppes. Arlan, a huntsman by profession, had been stalking fox in the nearby river wood when the intruders had come across, riding upon the abandoned road at the ford. Quickly he had retrieved his horse and had ridden straightaway for Jordkeep, the youth stopping only long enough to borrow a remount from an isolated drover.
Long the council talked, considering several plans:
“I say we muster the nearby steads,” proposed Weyth. “We can raise a force of two hundred or so within a two-day at the most. Then will we take the fight to the scum of Bogar.”
“I think not,” countered Ruric. “Aye, we could do as ye say, Weyth, but I deem the Naudron are in Arnsburg by now, and should we delay a Vanadurin counterstroke, Bogar will feel free to send across a main force wi’in the week.”
Arlan responded to Ruric’s statement: “Why don’t we just take the Men of the Castleward and ride this very night?”
“Ach, huntsman,” Barda pointed out, “riding forth with the Castleward would leave Jordkeep helpless and at the mercy of any. Who knows, mayhap Bogar holds a nearby secret force in waiting for us to do just that very thing.”
Barda paused, then went on: “And if Bogar does have a watch on the castle, then he knows that Aranor is elsewhere, for we kept it no secret, and so he knows that the keep is undermanned. Hence, mayhap the best strategy would be to hold till the return of the King, meanwhile mustering the nation entire; and upon the King’s arrival we would have the full army ready to take War to the Naudron.”
“Nay!” exclaimed Elyn, surprising every Man with the strength of her objection, and all eyes turned her way. “My stand is this: a full War need not be waged when a swift skirmish will accomplish the same ends.” Ruric looked upon her with something akin to fatherly pride.
Back and forth the discussions ranged, and at last Ruric turned to canny Elgo. “What would ye advise, my Prince.”
Undaunted, Elgo set forth his plan: “War Commander, oft’ have I heard you say ‘Fortune favors the bold.’ And I deem that this is a time for bold action, for though we here are undermanned, still we cannot wait my sire’s return. Now is the time to strike, and strike hard! Else the Naudron will think the land be theirs.
“This then is what I propose: Send forth heralds to muster the nearby steads, gathering up two hundred warriors or so. But list! They are not to be mustered to engage the Naudron. Instead they are to gather here at Jordkeep and stand watch, for indeed this may be but a ruse to draw us forth and away, and Bogar may have a force in these regions to attack when he sees we are gone.