“Mad Randall will be avenged for all of mankind!” Bruni shouted, her voice roaring even over the cheers that greeted the thane’s pronouncement. “He was a brave man and a true friend.”
“For Aghar, too!” Slyce proclaimed, climbing up to stand on a chair next to the elf. He leaned over and whispered to Kerrick loudly. “Who Mad Randall?”
“For all of the Icereach!” This was Kerrick’s addition, and Moreen almost laughed at the toast-he was an elf after all but had thrown his lot in with the humans of this land. Her heart warmed at the thought, and when he happened to glance down at her, she smiled, and his face colored in a very un-elven blush.
“To the return of Strongwind Whalebone-may he once again sit upon his throne,” declared Moreen, more quietly now, as she considered the words herself. “All of us, Arktos, Highlanders and elf, have lost a great friend-a strong leader and a loyal friend.” Murmurs of agreement rumbled through the hall, as each person took the measure of his or her own determination.
“I should think that you, my lady, might have an especial cause to grieve his capture.” Thedric Drake leaned in to whisper to her. The elder thane’s tone was gentle, but his gaze was as sharp as ever.
“Why do you say that?” Moreen asked, though after an instant of reflection she knew.
“There were many among both our peoples, who thought that the wedding of our king and the Lady of the Arktos was the perfect compact, the seal on an alliance that has been too many centuries in the making. Surely you knew that he loved you?” Now the thane’s tone was gently chiding.
“I know that he and I discussed such a marriage on several occasions,” the chiefwoman replied uncomfortably. “The words that we exchanged are personal words, between the king and myself.”
“You did not marry him, yet he still accompanied you, gave up his freedom in the service of the Arktos tribe.”
“Yes. He came not as my future husband but as a loyal friend,” she replied, “and now I vow to rescue him!”
“Or die trying!” This was Barq One-Tooth again, staggering up from his chair, waving his mug in another sloppy toast. He threw his glass into the fire-and had left a good slug of warqat in the vessel, judging by the sheet of flame that erupted.
“Die trying!” The thought was echoed across the hall, and Moreen shivered slightly at the grim toast, but once again she raised her glass and joined in.
Thedric Drake stood, mug in hand, and the room fell expectantly silent, awaiting another toast. Instead, he looked at Moreen, smiled in an avuncular manner, and gestured for her to rise. When she did, he spoke gently.
“Now that we have joined you in this quest … can you tell us your plan?”
Suddenly Moreen felt a little drunk. She knew her idea was crazy, yet it seemed to her sensible enough. These were such good people, surely they would understand!
“I propose to journey to Winterheim, to enter the ogre city, and to find and free Strongwind Whalebone,” she announced without preamble. “To bring him and the rest of us out alive. If we can free more of the slaves, even all of them, we will do that, too.”
Barq One-Tooth uttered a low whistle of surprise then toppled forward, his face falling into the gravy on his plate.
“I admire your courage and your will, but the important question is, how do you propose to do this?” Thedric asked quietly. “Have you even seen Winterheim, much less found a way inside?”
“I have learned of a way into the ogre city through a cavern called the Moongarden. We can march there overland, though it means we must scale the Tusker Escarpment then the Icewall. I believe this route offers at least a reasonable chance of success.”
“How did you learn of this entry?” asked Thedric warily.
“We have an ogre prisoner, the only survivor of a raiding party taken on the Whitemoor. Bruni has gotten to know him in the past few weeks, and he has proved to be quite talkative. It is upon his words that I have made my plan.”
“A prisoner? Surely you must suspect treachery?” the thane argued. “He has perhaps directed you right into the arms of a permanent garrison.”
Moreen looked at Bruni, who shook her head. “I have to tell you that I trust him,” the big woman said. “For one thing, I am pretty certain that he isn’t bright enough to practice any such deception. He talked to us willingly and seemed to be quite content simply to engage in conversation. I believe I have been able to win over his trust. Furthermore, he clearly doesn’t believe that we present any credible threat to his king’s fortress-he believes no harm can come from whatever he has told us.”
“But the Tusker Escarpment,” suggested a Highlander thane Moreen didn’t know, “there are a thousand walrus men living there!”
“Then we’ll kill ’em all!” It was Kerrick, standing and swaying, lifting a new glass to right and left, some wine sloshing out. There was a moment of surprised silence, then a roar swept up from the gathering, echoing in the rafters of the great hall.
“Death to the tuskers!” The new chant swelled in the hall, and more glasses were drained.
“I will bring the Axe of Gonnas and smite the ogres with their own talisman!” exclaimed Bruni, gesturing to the sacred weapon, captured eight years ago and now displayed on the wall of the keep, above the great hearth. “Even the ogre god cannot stop us!”
“There are more things than gods to fear,” Dinekki said, her frail voice somehow cutting through the noise of the gathering, “but there are gods on our side, as well-gods, men, and even an elf,” she added, with a wink at Kerrick.
“How can we fail?” asked Bruni, who seemed to Moreen to be surprisingly sober. The big woman raised her mug, took a deep drink, and proclaimed aloud, “To the Tusker Escarpment!”
“Up the Icewall Pass!” Kerrick added.
“And through the Moongarden of Winterheim,” Moreen chimed in. Three more glasses crashed into the coals, and the vapors of warqat again puffed into their azure flame, the explosion whooshing right out of the fireplace.
The room fell silent, and the chiefwoman felt all eyes upon her. She felt sober now, alert and hopeful and in the company of good friends. Slowly and somberly she lifted her vessel for one final toast.
“A pledge,” she said. “I make a pledge to lead you, my loyal companions, to Winterheim. We will enter the ogre stronghold and rescue Strongwind Whalebone-”
“Or die trying!” Somehow Barq One Tooth had recovered enough to lift his bearded face, gravy smear and all, to make that last addition to the pledge.
“Or die trying,” Moreen echoed, drinking deeply.
She meant every word.
5
You lost him? The King of Suderhold goes out for a stroll in his own palace, and you cannot follow where he goes?” The queen’s tone was deceptively gentle, but she felt the growl rumbling in her throat, a menacing indication of her rising displeasure.
“Please, your highness!” cried Garnet Drake, kneeling abjectly, speaking in the direction of the floor. “There was nothing I could do-he followed the trollop’s slave only for a short time, then their paths diverged. Naturally, I chose to keep your husband in sight.”
“Not very effectively, it would seem,” Stariz noted in a calm, unemotional tone. She was pleased to see the film of sweat beading on Drake’s brow.
“Well, he turned into a narrow lane then made great haste. I followed him as closely as I dared, all the way to the Slaves’ Way!” The man’s voice was growing shrill, tremulous. “When I got there he was gone! There was no one within a hundred paces in either direction, though I raced back and forth with great urgency. It was as though he vanished into thin air! I suspect sorcery, your majesty-sorcery of black and sinister import!”
“Don’t be an idiot,” Stariz snorted, controlling her mounting anger only with the greatest difficulty.
She felt an urge to reach out and wring this useless wretch’s neck-indeed, the act would give her no small measure of satisfaction. Her chief spy was not entirely useless-indeed, his loyalty had been proven many times over, and if she were to dispose of him, she would have a headache replacing him.