Tate leaned over the inner wall and yelled into the court shy;yard, "Albrecht, sound the alarm in the village. Take a hand shy;ful of men to gather the people into the safety of the castle. We have little enough room in the inner ward, so instruct them to bring only their children, the clothes on their backs, and perhaps weapons, if they're of use. Tell the gate guards to keep watch for smugglers." He gave a small motion with his head. "Quickly now." Nodding up at his superior, Albrecht hastened off toward the east gate, gathering a small trail of knights in his wake.
Tate considered calling Albrecht back to order the torching of the village so its stores wouldn't benefit the enemy, but he decided against it. They would need every hand in the battle; burning their village, no matter how tactically sound, would earn the lord knight no supporters among the villagers. Bet shy;ter to let the enemy do that dirty work.
Next, Tate jogged to each of the bastions, starting with those on the southeastern and southwestern corners, which faced the encamped army of the Black Wing. Tate instructed the sentries there to watch closely, first and foremost for signs of impending attack, secondly for dragons, and then for any parties departing from the enemy's main body. He told their counterparts in the northeast and northwest towers to alert him immediately if they sighted either dragons or the appearance of wooden mantelets near the eastern or northern gates to prevent escape.
That reminded Tate he needed to get his own spies out quickly, before the enemy could seal them into the castle. Spotting Wallens coordinating the stockpiling of rocks and arrows on the south battlements, he put the knight in charge of selecting and dispersing agents to more accurately assess the enemy's strength and intent.
Tate saw Abel the baker scurrying about, the flour on his apron turned to paste by the lightly falling rain. The stout man was bossing knights and youths alike in the filling of pots and jugs of water. The containers were then placed on the battle shy;ments to be dumped on enemy soldiers as they scaled the walls. The light rain was making it difficult to start fires to boil the pots of water. The blacksmith lent his bellows to the task, and before long flames stirred and stayed. Long, forked poles were distributed along the walls for toppling ladders. Bundles of arrows wrapped in oilskins to protect them against the rain were deposited behind the battlements. Archers checked their bowstrings, carefully packed inside their doublets or padded armor, to be sure they were dry. Crossbowmen shook beaded water off their heavily oiled weapons.
Before long, the frightened villagers, grumbling about the rain, began to pile through the eastern gate, crowding the courtyard. Albrecht set them to work immediately preparing bandages, fetching and carrying supplies for the soldiers, and rounding up the livestock running loose in the compound.
After everyone was fed a thin stew from the enormous pots that would too soon hold boiling water for the defense, Tate called an emergency meeting of his four-man council of knights. Since the great room was filled with displaced vil shy;lagers, Albrecht, Wallens, and Auston met with him in the light of a single taper in their barracks. Tate's batting felt wet and clammy against his skin.
"You've all seen, or at least heard about, the mobile barri shy;cades beyond the gates," Tate began. "We are now sealed in, unless we choose to try fighting our way out.
"It appears, however, that we are badly outnumbered. The enemy has a sizable army of humans, ogres, and some sort of creatures no one here can identify. Prudence demands we assume they have dragons, as well, although no one has seen them." Heads nodded quiet agreement around the table.
"Considering the seriousness of the situation, I want to send an emissary out to talk to their commander."
Agreement was replaced by surprise. "Surely you don't mean to discuss surrender?" asked Albrecht.
"No," replied Tate. "But we have a huge number of women, children, and old men here in the fortress. We must at least try to arrange safe conduct for them away from the battle."
Auston cleared his throat. "Sir, I would be honored to serve as message bearer. I've had some diplomatic experi shy;ence, settling ethnic disputes with the barbarians in the Est-wilde region of Solamnia."
Tate clapped the eager young knight on the shoulder. "You're just the man for the job, then, Auston."
A short time later the knights were reassembled inside the south gate. Lanterns, spitting softly in the light rain, cast their dim light across the scene. Auston sat proudly, if somewhat nervously, on his horse. Tate shook the young knight's hand. "Come back swiftly and safely."
Nodding, Auston touched his helmet in salute to Tate as he rode out the gate. Two guards hastily closed and barred it behind him.
Rather than wait anxiously back in the barracks, the knights separated to double-check the castle's defenses. Tate went to the stables below the barracks and fed the griffons. The horses had been moved above ground to accommodate
the five horseflesh-loving winged creatures he'd purchased at great expense from a trader.
An hour later, there came a shout from the rampart. A ner shy;vous guard peered out and saw a white horse, returning alone in the pale moonlight. Tate ran from the stables up onto the wall to see what caused the commotion. He watched with the sentries and knights gathered there as the horse cantered back to the south gate. Guards flung back the heavy wooden doors and hustled the horse inside. Snorting, eyes wide and fearful, the white creature circled through the courtyard and the thronged people there, stopping before Tate, who'd has shy;tened down from the battlement. The courtyard grew strangely still, as if everyone inside was holding his breath.
The apprehensive lord knight began to search the creature for a note or message of some kind concerning Auston's fate. The horse itself provided the answer. Its hairy lips ruffled, and a voice very like Tate's own said through the horse's mouth, "You can't act like ruffians and expect to be treated like ladies." Tate visibly paled.
"What does it mean, Sir Tate?" Albrecht asked, noting the expression of understanding growing on his superior's face. "And what have they done with Auston?"
"It means no deal," Tate said numbly. "Auston's dead."
"The unprincipled bastards!" snarled the usually con shy;tained Wallens. "What'U we do now, Sir?"
Tate tried to rub the weariness from his eyes. "See to your stations one last time tonight, then get some rest while you can," the lord knight said. "Tomorrow promises to be a long, hard day."
Tate was already walking away from the dazed Albrecht and Wallens, his thoughts on a distant time. Three fingers traced the scars beneath the whiskers on his cheek. Now he knew why the dragon at Shalimsha had seemed so familiar. The witch-woman from the ambush . .. Tate didn't under shy;stand magic well enough to explain how it could be done, but he was certain the human fighter was now a vengeful, black dragon. It was obvious from the message that she hadn't for shy;gotten their encounter, either.
A muscle twitched in Tate's wet cheek. The dragon's quest was nothing compared to the knight's: to avenge his friend, Wolter. She was a worthy adversary as a dragon, he mused, recalling the battle at Shalimsha.
He found it all very curious how their paths had crossed and recrossed.
He wasn't a man to believe in omens, but if ever he did …
The Knight of the Crown felt a sudden, overwhelming desire to pray to his patron, Kiri-Jolith. He'd spent little time in temple since the battle at Shalimsha. Tate told himself he was too busy reorganizing troops and bolstering morale to devote one of every seven days to inactive prayer.