“It is as I suspected it would be,” he said. “Turn here.”
They wound their way through the city, trying to look like visitors searching for a place to stay. Offendorl knew exactly where he wanted to go, of course, but he didn’t want to draw unwarranted attention. They could see the tower before they reached the city, and drew closer to it with every step their horse took. They settled on an inn near the tower. The innkeeper was there, but he was glassy eyed and completely neglecting his guests. The men gathered at the establishment drank ale and ate because the innkeeper’s wife continued to work, but there was no payment, and the morale in the inn was sour.
“Whom do I speak to about a room?” Offendorl asked.
No one responded.
Offendorl was undeterred. The inn had no stable, so Havina was seeing to their horse at a nearby livery stable. Meanwhile, Offendorl went from room to room until he found one unoccupied and with a semblance of cleanliness. The small beds were made and there was no trash or personal belonging scattered about. He went to the window and was pleased to find that he had an excellent view of the front entrance to the tower. There were soldiers on guard there, but only a dozen. As he sat watching them, Havina returned. She had seen to the horse and carriage, and now she seemed intent on providing for Offendorl’s other needs.
He had given her coin as they traveled so she could buy food and wine for him. She went down to the kitchens and returned with a bottle of wine and the promise of a midday meal soon. After she poured his drink, she sat on the small bed, quietly watching the Master of the Torr. He sipped his wine and watched the tower. He was reasonably sure that as long as he did no magic, Gwendolyn would not know he was there.
He’d been watching for an hour or more when a frantic looking soldier came running to the Torr. The soldiers guarding the tower must have recognized him because they didn’t question him or hinder his entrance to the tower.
“Something is amiss,” Offendorl said. “Go and see what you can learn around the city.”
“Yes, my lord,” Havina said.
She put the wide brimmed hat back on, pulling it down low so that it covered her eyebrows. She left the inn and walked through the streets with her gaze low, allowing the hat to hide her face. She wandered aimlessly. The news of the army’s return was being talked about all over, and after discovering that only a small fraction of the original force had returned, she reported her findings.
“So, Gwendolyn has suffered a loss on the battlefield,” Offendorl said, speaking his thoughts out loud. “Of course, she did not go herself, no. That would never do. She won’t leave the tower until she has defeated me, not even to fend off entire armies. Are they locking down the city?”
“I believe so, my lord.”
“Yes, that makes sense. We can use the distraction to strike at Gwendolyn. Let us wait and see what will happen.”
Offendorl never left the small seat by the window. The afternoon was hot and very little air stirred in the inn. Sweat dripped down the elder wizard’s forehead and he wiped it away with a silk handkerchief. The wine did nothing to cool him, but he drank it anyway. He longed to be back in his tower, high above the stench of the city and the sweltering heat. Waiting, now that he was so close, was incredibly difficult, but he forced himself to wait. The time would come soon. If an army encamped around the city, Gwendolyn would be forced to deal with it, and when she did she would be exposed and vulnerable.
Night came and went, but Offendorl did not move. Soldiers jogged through the streets. Men were called from all across the city, even those who weren’t soldiers. Every man was needed on the walls. The inn was abandoned by everyone except Offendorl, Havina, and the innkeeper’s forgotten wife, who hid in the kitchens.
Offendorl watched as men ran to the tower and reported the enemy’s movements. Offendorl couldn’t hear the reports, but he could guess what was happening. Any competent military commander would surround the city and choke off its vital supplies. The walls could be defended by her men, but if the besieging army was of any size, Gwendolyn would have to drive them away. Offendorl hoped that with her attention on the army he could catch her unaware.
“It is time to finish this,” Offendorl said to Havina. “Come, sit here,” he said, rising from the chair he had occupied for so long. “You shall have an unrestricted view of what is to come.”
Havina, trembling with fear and anticipation, sat in the small, wooden chair.
“You have been loyal and I shall not forget,” he told her as he stretched his stiff muscles. Then he took a long drink of wine and placed the golden crown on his head.
“Now,” he said out loud for Havina’s sake. “Attack the tower.”
Offendorl removed the crown. He could see the question in the woman’s eyes. He decided to share his knowledge with the woman. After all, she was not a magic user, he reasoned. “The crown is inscribed with the name of the dragon,” he told her. “It gives me complete mastery over the beast.”
She smiled. The thought of his mastery over the huge, fire-breathing dragon made her pulse race. Offendorl smiled in return. He was ancient, his body kept alive by magical rejuvenation, and the passions of men had long since died for him-or so he thought. He had surrounded himself with men for centuries. He had no need for women, and in most cases did not trust other men around them. But now Havina, barely a woman, was awakening a part of the elder wizard he had not anticipated. He had strong feelings for her. Partly lust, partly simple appreciation for her service, but mostly he found himself hoping to receive her affection.
“When this is over, I shall make you my queen,” he said. “If that would please you.”
“It would, more than anything else,” she said, her voice seductive and low, practically purring.
“Good, wait for me here,” he said. Then he turned and swept from the room.
For days he had been anxious to do battle with Gwendolyn, to sweep her from her lofty perch and cast her down at his feet. But he had not expected the battle to be easy, and so a tiny pinprick of fear had stabbed at the back of his consciousness for days. He had resolutely ignored it, but the feeling refused to go away. Now it seemed that hope for Havina’s affections had driven the fear completely away, and Offendorl found a new spring in his step.
Perhaps what Havina craved wasn’t Offendorl the man. He understood that she was drawn to his power, not his physical form, but still he felt more alive than he had in decades. His body tingled with anticipation of returning to his full power in the Torr and seeing her look of hungry passion as she sat at his feet. He was ready, he decided. He only needed to wait until Bartoom arrived, then he would begin his attack.
* * *
The Grand City was always an imposing sight. It’s high walls and lofty buildings spoke of untold wealth and prestige. King Zorlan had coveted the city since he had seen it for the first time as a boy. Now it sat before him and his army, a glistening jewel just waiting for Zorlan to pick it up. He imagined himself on the throne, ruler of two, perhaps even three kingdoms. The thought filled him with such a sense of excitement that he practically shook with anticipation.
King Zorlan had sent his assassins into the city a full day before the army arrived. The information that he had tortured from Prince Wilam was invaluable. After discussing his plans with his generals, they had agreed to lay siege to the city. It was a diversion, meant to cause panic in the Grand City and at the same time lull the witch into a sense of security. If she was focused on the army outside the walls, she would not be watching for the assassins already inside.