"Firbolgs… and trolls. Are you sure, Newt?" Robyn asked intently.
"What do you think … I don't know a troll when I see one? Sure I'm sure!"
"What about the dwarves? Did you see any of them?" pressed the queen.
Newt shook his head in exasperation. "I told you-I saw firbolgs and trolls! You don't think the dwarves would invite them right in, do you?"
Robyn sighed and leaned back on her arms, frustrated and tense. She knew better than to ask Newt how many of the beasts he had seen. Suddenly she itched with the urge to fly north, to see Cambro and this brutal band of monsters. She didn't want to think of it as an army-there couldn't be that many of the gigantic humanoids on all Gwynneth … or could there?
"I'm going to Cambro today," she announced. "Want to come along?"
"Sure!" Newt beamed. "But why? Didn't I tell you it's full of giants and stuff? Why don't we go to Corwell, or someplace else that's friendly?"
By the time she had convinced the faerie dragon that she was determined in her choice of destination, a bare minimum of light sifted through the woods, and the stars overhead slowly disappeared into the dawn. Once again Robyn's body smoothly changed shape, and the figure of the white hawk soared into the still morning air. Buzzing beside her came the equally swift faerie dragon.
For a few hours, they flew, guided by Robyn's true sense of direction. Finally they saw the small clearing in its setting of low, rock-knobbed hills. As they swooped downward, she was relieved to see that most of the houses had suffered relatively little damage, though a few had been burned and others smashed into junk. The evidence of battle was all too indisputable.
Diving lower, she saw that the monsters had gone. Their tracks formed a plain, muddy rut extending northward from the village. Other figures, however, stood among the ruins, and as the hawk soared toward the ground, Robyn identified many of them. A number of dwarves regarded the great bird suspiciously, but none of them raised their crossbows-and in another moment, Robyn settled to the ground, standing proudly as the dark-haired druid queen. She wasn't surprised when Newt didn't appear, suspecting that he hovered around somewhere, invisibly observing this large gathering of strangers.
"Your Majesty!" Hanrald exclaimed, quickly dropping to one knee as she greeted him and bade him rise. Danrak, too, formally greeted the mistress of his druidic faith.
"And Brigit… and Finellen as well," Robyn said with a sad smile at the destruction around them. "How unfortunate that we old companions meet like this."
"It's a regular 'old campaigners' council," Finellen grumbled. "But we're too late."
"You weren't here when this happened? No wonder they got away with it," Robyn said, clapping the bearded dwarf-woman on the shoulder.
Gruffly, biting back her frustration, Finellen told Robyn what she had learned from Danrak and the physical evidence of the scene: the approximate number of the attackers-a remarkably accurate estimate of two hundred-and the fact that the brutes had marched off to the north. Missing from Cambro were considerable stockpiles of strong drink, as well as much treasure and the Silverhaft Axe, the prize artifact of the village.
Danrak added the information about the dwarven refugees. "We also received word just this morning that they've attacked some farmsteads in Winterglen. They're still marching north, toward the coast."
"We're going after them within the day," Finellen noted. "We've sent out a mustering of the clans, and I hope to add a few more warriors before we start out on the trail. But after that, it won't be more than a few days before we track these thugs down and attack!"
Robyn looked around. At best, Finellen had some fifty warriors in her company. Even if that number doubled, which didn't seem likely, they would be vastly outnumbered by the giant-kin.
"I can return to Corwell by tomorrow," she said, calculating distances and effort in her mind. "When King Tristan hears about this, he'll take immediate action-you know that! Why don't you consider holding back until he can join you? He can raise five hundred men-at-arms from Corwell Town alone. They'll be on the march within a few hours of the call. Then, with your forces united, you can make one solid, sure attack!"
Her arguments sounded persuasive and sensible to the humans and the elf, but Robyn could tell that Finellen didn't see them quite that way.
"Was Corwell sacked?" demanded the bearded warrior. This was the question that defined the dwarf's approach to the problem. "Since when do you think that we dwarves can't take care of ourselves?"
"That's not the case! What about the lessons we learned together twenty years ago, Finellen? Standing side by side against chaos-dwarves, Llewyrr, and humans-we faced down evil and we prevailed! Have you forgotten?" demanded the queen.
"No … I'll never forget," Finellen said sincerely. "But there's a case where the Darkwalker and its minions threatened all of us!"
"Didn't you hear Danrak say that human farmsteads have been ravaged by these beasts? Those are King Tristan's subjects. He would come out of duty to them even if Cambro still stood safe and snug! You'll not relinquish any sense of honor by waiting for him. Instead, you'll ensure that you earn the vengeance you so richly deserve!" And take away from the chance you'll lead your warriors into another tragedy, she added silently.
Finellen turned away to ponder for a moment. Finally she made her decision and faced the queen again, her expression skeptical but not unfriendly.
"I'll have to follow the trail… keep them in sight," she explained. "But I suppose I could hold off on the attack for a week or so, at least so long as it doesn't look like they're getting away."
How the giant-kin could "get away" on an island the size of Gwynneth eluded Robyn at the moment, but she was grateful for the dwarfwoman's concession.
"Very well," Robyn replied. "I'll start back to Corwell immediately. The king will be on the march shortly after I arrive, I'm certain!"
"A week," Finellen said grudgingly. "After that, I don't think I'll be able to hold back."
"Come in, my child. . It's good to see you walking about." It's good to see you period, the Exalted Inquisitor addended silently as Deirdre entered the anteroom of his apartments.
Indeed, the raven-haired princess of Callidyrr was a stunning beauty, with her ice-white skin, high cheekbones, and lush black hair. Her blue eyes, of a hue so dark it sometimes seemed like black, burned with an intensity that dissolved any thoughts of chilly arrogance within her proud, aloof body.
"I'm beginning to feel… alive again," Deirdre admitted, sinking to a low bench with a sigh. Even a short walk about the keep still exhausted her. Nevertheless, this was a considerable improvement from her nearly comatose state of a week earlier.
She had awakened several days before to find the patriarch of Helm at her side, holding her small hand in both of his large ones. Immediately she had felt a sense of trust toward the man, and as they had conversed-for a few minutes at first; later for hour after stimulating hour-she learned that here was a person who understood her!
This made him unique among her currently present family and friends. Deirdre found that the priest was a very devout man, absolutely subject to the will of his god, but the will of his god as Hyath himself interpreted it. The princess had been quick to grasp the fact that this gave him a certain amount of leeway in the pursuit of his doctrine.
And yet Helm did not seem displeased. She sensed an aura of godhood around the man, an indisputable fullness of power that bespoke more than mortal, or even magical, vitality. It was a strength unique from, and seemingly superior to, the druidic faith of her mother.
When Hyath spoke to her, his deep voice rumbled soothingly. He talked, not of his god, but of gods. Once again Deirdre found him clarifying things that she had never fully grasped before. The full pantheon of gods worshiped by all the peoples of the Realms she saw as a good thing, a strengthening by diversity that for many centuries had been unknown in the Moonshaes.