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Tuorel frowned. “I’m not inclined to accept your ‘gifts’ at this point, Ba
“Even if I can place Warlord Kraith’s army at your command?”
“Kraith is at least ten days away, in Thak Mor Kadan. If you summoned him this instant, he’d be here too late to aid me in the fight ahead. Besides, I like the terms of my existing bargain with the goblin. If he helps me again, he’ll exact a price I may not want to meet, especially since it looks as if I’ll be able to crush the Diemans without giving up the siege.”
“Kraith must abide by your agreement, Baron. He can demand nothing from you.”
Baehemon rasped, “We neither need nor want him here, Ba
“That is regrettable, Lord Baehemon. Kraith and his warband should be here on the morrow.”
Tuorel’s face was hot with indignation. “You presumed to summon Kraith without asking me? Ba
Baehemon’s fists clenched Ba
Ignoring Baehemon, Ba
The baron’s eyes narrowed. “Orders? From whom?”
Ba
Absolute silence reigned in the tent for a long moment.
Tuorel’s face was pale, and he blinked twice. Behind him, Baehemon gasped as if he’d been punched. Delighting in their horror, Ba
Behind him, Baehemon drew in a long, hissing breath. If Tuorel was shaken by Ba
Tuorel’s eyes flickered past Ba
When it was over, he glanced up at Ba
Ba
“Nor will you,” Tuorel replied. He stood and with both hands drove Calruile, his fathers’ sword, through Ba
Ba
“Hear my words: You’ll never see the Iron Throne.” Then the light faded, and he slipped off the cold steel as he fell to the ground.
Noered Tuorel studied the scene in silence for a moment.
Outside, the guard called to see if he was well. His face twisting in barely controlled rage, the baron called the guards in.
When they burst through the door and took in the scene, the soldiers halted in astonishment. “Are you hurt, baron?” asked one.
“No, I am uninjured,” Tuorel replied. “But the traitor attacked and killed Lord Baehemon before I managed to cut him down. Treat Lord Baehemon with the appropriate honors and respect.”
“And the wizard?”
“Quarter his body and throw it in with the rest of the offal,” Tuorel said. “Then leave me be.”
The weather was fine, cool, and clear as Gaelin rode into the Mhorien camp, beside the placid waters of Lake Winoene.
Nearly two thousand men followed him. The armored soldiers of the Temple of Haelyn had been joined by hundreds of villagers and freesteaders answering the call to arms. It had been a hard march, but they’d made it with half a day to spare. A lthough the men were tired, Gaelin set them to fortifying the camp immediately – he didn’t want his army smashed by a Ghoeran attack before they’d organized themselves.
On the bright side, their position was defensible. The southern end of Lake Winoene was boxed in tightly by the surrounding hills, unlike the open terrain by the castle of Caer Winoene, and strategically placed earthworks would suffice to guard the Mhorien muster. A long time ago, there had been a small village on this site and an old monastery high on a hill overlooking the lake. From the ruins of the monastery, Gaelin could make out the distant walls and towers of Caer Winoene, about seven miles away. Threads of dark, ominous smoke rose from the site of the siege. Gaelin found it unsettling to think the Ghoeran army lurked only a day’s march distant.
Agreat number of Mhoriens had answered Gaelin’s call in just five days. The ancient Count Torien had brought threequarters of his fighting strength, five hundred cavalrymen and a levy of nine hundred archers, leaving only a handful of men to hold the precarious northern borders of Mhoried.
Lord Ghaele, the husband of the Countess Marloer, led two hundred heavy knights and four hundred pikemen. A dozen more highland lords totaled about three hundred knights and retainers. However, the most impressive turnout came from the common folk of Winoene, Byr
Trying to make sense of the milling crowds of men and keep peace among those who weren’t friendly with each other consumed most of Gaelin’s afternoon. Since the Haelynites were the most organized unit on the field, he had Iviena’s officers divided among the detachments of the Mhorien lords and the horde of militiamen. The temple knights could use their common sets of orders and chain of command to control the various bands and militias they were attached to, although the Mhorien leaders kept command of their own units. Some of the minor lords and the villagers complained, but Gaelin realized it was the best he was going to come up with in the half-day he had to assemble the army.