"All the way." Gawain smiled calmly, his blade unwavering.
"There are no runes, Longsword…." Allazar said quietly.
"True," Gawain said, his voice soft and completely without malice. "Yet this is Joyen, of the D'ith Sek, first order of the brethren. What need has he of painted symbols to dull the wits of lesser wizards?"
The sneer on Joyen's lips froze, and a bead of sweat formed beneath the steel point still pressed at his temple.
"All the way." Sarek hissed cruelly.
Joyen suddenly ripped open the robes, knocking Sarek's crossbow aside and triggering the sear so that the bolt flew, gouging a wound in the back of the wizard's head as it streaked harmlessly across the inn to slam into the oak door. The wizard took a step backwards, Karn's blade raking the skin beneath his chin and drawing blood.
"Va takan thul!" Joyen cried, and then choked as Elayeen's slender dagger flashed through the air and buried itself deep in his throat. Another blade seemed to spring as if by magic from the wizard's heart, and then Karn's long knife slipped between ribs and found the same organ as Rak's blade had penetrated.
The body fell backwards to slam onto the sawdust-strewn floorboards, sightless eyes gazing up at the ceiling. The two surviving wizards gasped in horror, but Gawain could not tell whether it was the horror of violent death, or of the black crystal lens that hung low on a gold chain belted around the corpse's abdomen.
Gawain sheathed the longsword, and glanced around the room. Hard eyes, and grim expressions, all around. Even the Lady Merrin was sheathing her ornamental dagger with an expression of intense satisfaction. An enemy had invaded Threlland, and Threllanders, aided by Elvendere and Raheen, had claimed the first victory in the battle that must surely come.
"What was that he said?" Karn demanded, gazing in admiration as Elayeen stepped over the corpse and retrieved her dagger, wiping it on the dead wizard's robes before sheathing it behind her back. "Some sort of curse or spell?"
"No." Allazar said softly, rubbing the red blotch on his chest. "Va takan thul. In the wizard's tongue, that means 'he will consume you all'."
"Not while I can wield a blade." Karn grunted, cleaning his own knife and eyeing Elayeen as she returned to stand beside Gawain. "Take a message, Brant. From, Karn, General Commanding, to, all His Majesty's men-at-arms. Any wizard found inside His Royal Majesty's borders is to expose their torso on demand, on pain of death. Any wizard found bearing strange symbols or a dark crystal upon their person is to be summarily executed. Message ends."
Brant finished scribbling, and then paused. "They won't like it, Serre.”
"They'll like good Threlland steel between the ribs even less. Send the message, and copy a brief report to His Majesty."
"Serre."
Gawain smiled grimly, and took Elayeen's arm. "General, I do not believe you require my Lady or I for the remainder of this briefing. Lord Rak and Captain Sarek are eminently qualified to assist you, now that you may do so without fear of spying."
"Very well, your Majesty." Karn bowed, and then gazed at Elayeen. "My compliments, your Majesty." And bowed again.
Outside in the clear air of Tarn, Gawain walked quietly with Elayeen towards Rak's gardens.
"They admire you, my Lady." he said softly.
Elayeen blushed in the late afternoon sunshine. "Thank you, mithroth."
Gawain shrugged, and smiled. "There is much to admire. I did not know you were so capable with that pretty dagger of yours."
Elayeen nodded. "It came close enough to your throat, miheth, when first we met."
"I remember. I thought it pretty then, though not as pretty as the hand that held it."
She paused, and looked up into his eyes. "Are you yourself? Does the throth still ail you?"
Gawain smiled warmly. "No, it does not trouble me. I believe I can say that I'm now once again able to understand the things that people say when they say things."
"Indeed?" Elayeen beamed.
"Indeed." Gawain chuckled.
"Then, mithroth, should we not attend the General's briefing, and not dally thus in the gardens?"
"No. They have met the enemy on their own soil. And in Rak's own town at that. The death of Joyen will vex Morloch greatly, and will serve to forge a greater strength of duty between all our Threlland friends. This is their land, their home. They do not need us to assist in their plans for its defence while we await the council of kings, and greater alliances."
"Then shall we sit, mithroth, and talk of our alliance?"
"Aye," Gawain smiled. "Allazar said to me this very morning, 'soon enough, there will be little time for such gentle moments.' For the second time today I find I agree with him, cursed whitebeard. Spring is almost upon us, and we must soon ride to Ferdan."
40. Garrison Town
General Karn elected to remain in Tarn, to oversee personally the arrival and disposition of the combined Threlland forces. Word soon spread, as word will, and the three hundred and fifty men that Eryk of Threlland lamented were his all, soon found its ranks swollen by enthusiastic volunteers. Most were politely turned away, though at a masterstroke the General issued them with coloured armbands and instructions to form local militias which might, in time of crisis, be called upon to reinforce the regular army.
Sarek found himself promoted, and threw himself into the task of training the regulars in Gawain's nefarious arts of stealth and brigandry. The enthusiasm with which Threlland regulars undertook this dishonourable training was alarming, but not as alarming as the Lady Merrin's insistence that she be permitted to undergo the basic training herself.
Sarek protested, and so did Lord Rak, but Merrin prevailed. She had a son, she said, and would see him a man even if it meant sacrificing the gentler pastimes associated with her role as a diplomat's wife and the niece of a king. That she had asked Elayeen to teach her how to throw a dagger was evidence enough of her sincerity and the reasons for it, and Rak's long years of diplomatic training had taught him that where his lady was concerned, concession was the better part of valour.
Gawain simply smiled, and left them all at their various activities while he walked up to the Point to overlook the enemy as he did every day. To his surprise, Allazar was there, sitting on the boulder, gazing off into the distance, shoulders slumped.
"Has your favourite dog died, Allazar?" Gawain asked cheerfully.
"In a manner of speaking, Longsword, yes."
"My condolences."
"Joyen was Morloch's. One of the D'ith Sek, yet a traitor and a Morloch spy. Can you know what this means?"
Gawain shrugged, and remained standing. "Aye. It means I am right to distrust all wizards everywhere."
"How did you know? That he was Morloch's."
"I didn't. As the throth mists cleared, I simply voiced my earlier convictions about having them all expose themselves. It was you, after all, that suspected."
"I?"
"Was it not you who asserted that Joyen protested too much?"
"He had a right to protest. As a member of the first order, to be confronted by an upstart D'ith pat such as I would be like…would be like a common soldier demanding his king disrobe."
"Yet you stood against him, and beside me, and even fought with him."
"Fought!" Allazar choked, "Fought? I barely tickled him."
"Yet you stood when he struck at you."
"I stood because the blow he dealt was nothing more than a contemptuous slap in the face for my impertinence. He was D'ith Sek, he could've burned a hole clean through me had he wished. I wonder he did not."
"To have done so would have meant his own death a heartbeat later."
"Perhaps. Perhaps."
"Allazar, soon we must travel to Ferdan. With luck, Brock will come with Willam of Juria. With more luck, Eryk of Threlland will join us there. And if luck is indeed with us, then Thal-Hak might be persuaded from his trees. There will be more wizards in Ferdan than flies on horse dung, and of all wizards, you are the one I distrust the least. I would have you less morose and more alert."