“They do,” Belexus assured him. “Without the daughter of Brielle, the northern fields would’ve been lost and the road cut off. More than few o’ those folk that got across the bridges would have fallen afore e’er they reached the Four Bridges.”
“That I do not doubt,” said Benador. “And I have witnessed myself the miracles of her healing hands. How many more would have died of their wounds were it not for the daughter of Brielle?”
“Me own bones’d be for the vultures,” replied Belexus. “Suren too many were the cuts I took. The talons had me for dead.”
“She has the powers of her mother,” said Benador, more than a little intrigued by the possibilities. “It would help our cause to further explore this potential strength of Rhiannon.”
Andovar had been listening to it all distantly, his thoughts still locked in the tender moments of the night he had spent cradling the witch’s daughter. But now the ranger purposely turned back into the conversation, concerned that his friends might unwittingly add to the pain of that beautiful young woman.
“The lookin’ for such strength’s for the eyes o’ Rhiannon alone,” he interrupted.
“What do you mean?” asked the King.
“The lass canno’ tolerate the power,” Andovar started to explain. Behind them, Rhiannon moved out of the tent. She started out to join the three, but held back, catching a bit of their conversation.
“Ayuh,” agreed Belexus. “Rhiannon fears the power, and knows not how to control it.”
“But the northern fields-” Benador started to argue.
“Nearly killed the child,” Belexus finished. “And she did not purposely call forth the strength.”
“A possessing thing it is,” Andovar remarked.
Benador shrugged. “Then my hopes are that Rhiannon will find her strength and the knowledge she needs,” he said sincerely. “Surely such power is a personal thing, and not for the whims of meddlesome outsiders such as a foolish king.”
Rhiannon bit her lip and forced the trembling out of her small frame. Benador spoke the truth, but even if he and the others left the decision concerning the use of the magic to her, she could not dismiss the gravity of their need. Rhiannon did not need the stress of prompting words; the carnage on the fields around her, the horde of evil talons across the river, and the specter of the Black Warlock were surely impetus enough.
Andovar put his hand on Benador’s sturdy shoulder. “Foolish?” the ranger said skeptically. “Me eyes think not.”
Benador shrugged the compliment aside. “What are your plans?” he asked. “I have the troops, but few skilled and experienced enough to lead them. My army would certainly welcome your command, as I would welcome your advice.”
“First we’re needing yer own,” replied Belexus. “What fighting do ye foresee?”
Benador looked over at the bridges. Another band of talons had crossed the western entrance to the northernmost structure, and once again a cavalry contingent of the Warders of the White Walls had charged out to smash them back to the western bank.
“They’ll not get across by the bridges alone,” Benador assured the rangers. “We have enough strength-and more flowing in every day-to defend such narrow corridors no matter how large the talon force becomes.”
“And what o’ the Black Warlock, then?” Andovar asked. “We’ve seen the likes o’ Thalasi on the field before, and he’s not to be forgotten.”
“And yet he’s made but a small appearance,” added Belexus. “Me heart fears that he’s waiting, holding back, to strike full.”
“He has made but a small appearance at this battle,” Benador corrected the ranger. “But last night I spoke with Istaahl, my wizard in Pallendara, and learned of the Black Warlock’s efforts. Thalasi has summoned storms over Pallendara and over Avalon, has sent his fury across the leagues to battle his most formidable foes.”
Andovar and Belexus exchanged concerned looks. Still unnoticed behind them, Rhiannon held her breath.
“Not to fear,” Benador assured them. “Brielle and Istaahl found ample strength to fend off the evil necromancer. The wood and my city took only slight damage in Thalasi’s assault. And Istaahl has assured me that he and the Emerald Witch can hold the Black Warlock at bay for some time to come. And a bright spot might yet be found in all of this, for we have not yet heard from the Silver Mage. We can only hope that Ardaz makes his appearance soon, though none have yet been able to contact him.”
“He is off in the east,” Belexus said. “But I’ve no doubt that the likes o’ that one will join in the battle in time to lend his aid. Ever does the Silver Mage arrive when most he is needed.”
“So I have been told,” chuckled Benador. “It seems, then, that we have a stalemate, for some time at least. Thalasi will not get across, and I have no desire to ride onto the western fields against so great a talon army.
“But a stalemate may not be such a bad state of affairs,” the King reasoned. “Talons are not an orderly bunch, and have as little love for each other as they have for humans. Summer has passed its midpoint and is soon to wane, and when the first of the chill winds blow down across the open plain from the north, many of the beasts might decide that this warring campaign is not so much fun after all.”
“Suren the Black Warlock’ll have his troubles keeping that bunch in line,” agreed Andovar.
“That is my hope,” said Benador. “If the snows of winter find us still fighting a draw at the riverbank, I suspect that the force across the river will break apart for the shelter of their dark holes.”
“And what o’ yerselves?” asked Belexus. “The cold wind’ll put a chill into the bones of yer men, as well.”
“But not so much that we will abandon our lands,” replied the King. “First lesson of war: severe weather always serves the defenders. And we have ample housing for those displaced, though with the western fields deserted and most of the men of all the kingdom in camp at the bridges, the crops will be meager, I fear.”
“But we’re to get through it,” declared Belexus. “And in a fortnight ye’ll have the Rangers of Avalon by yer side, and, unless I miss me guess, a host of elves besides.”
Benador gave the rangers a curious look. “You have made your decision, it would seem.”
“Ayuh,” replied Belexus. “Meself, Andovar, and Rhiannon’ll leave ye this day, back for the forest to the north. Suren ye can fight yer back’n’forth battles without the likes of us, and when we return, ye’re sure to find another fightin’ force beside us.”
“Good riding, then,” said the King. “Know that every day we’ll await your return. And be comforted by my guarantee that Thalasi will not get across the river while you are gone!”
“I’m not for going,” came a voice behind them, and they turned in unison to greet the approach of Rhiannon. She seemed less haggard this day, to the relief of them all, but dark circles still rimmed the bottom of her eyes, contrasting with the light glow of the orbs.
“Yer mother surely fears for ye,” Belexus reasoned.
“Me mother knows where I am, not to doubt,” Rhiannon replied. “And she’d want me here, that I know.” She turned to Andovar, who was obviously not pleased with her announcement.
“I cannot be leavin’,” she said to him. “Even small battles bring sufferin’, and I’ve a dozen already who’ll be needin’ me tendin’ for many days to come. I know me place in all of this, and for the time, me place’s here.”
Andovar could not deny the resolve in the young woman, or the truth of her words, however he felt. But Andovar knew his place as well. The Rangers of Avalon did not assemble often in these times of peace, but when Bellerian called out for them, as surely he would now, their duty did not allow for exceptions.
“Come,” Rhiannon bade him, and he took her arm and followed her back into the tent of healing.
“Ye know I must be off,” Andovar said when they were under the privacy of the tent folds.
“And I know, too, that ye’ll be back,” Rhiannon replied, that heart-stealing wisp of a grin turning up the edges of her mouth.