Douglas Niles - Measure and the Truth

The half-giant was not used to being talked to thusly, but as always he bit his tongue, sat still, and did what his mother told him to do.

Hoarst traveled through the ether of time and space, the wings of magic carrying him in a moment a distance that would have taken him three days to ride by horse. In that burst of teleportation, he passed over mountains, steep-walled valleys, across a vast plain and a mighty river, and deep into an unfamiliar range of mountains. Finally, the magic cast him down into the low swale the Nightmaster had described to him. The Thorn Knight arrived at the same time of day he had departed-that was, just before dusk-and since he had taken the precaution of making himself invisible before he teleported, he arrived unseen by any of the men around him as he materialized. Unnoticed, he took stock of his surroundings.

The priest of Hiddukel had spoken the truth, he realized at once: there was a great military host gathered there, arrayed in a camp with admirable discipline, all approaches guarded by alert sentries. The valley was hidden by lofty mountains, surrounded by a natural palisade. A trio of dark lakes were connected like a necklace of black pearls by a frothing stream that flowed through the valley. Groves of fruit trees thrived there, and a quick glance around showed him hundreds of hectares were under cultivation.

The mountains around the place were steep and forbidding, limiting access to a pair of passes, one to the north and the other to the south. When the wizard scrutinized those mountain-flanked saddles, he saw that access was guarded by cleverly camouflaged fortifications. The bastions looked very much like the natural mountainsides, but Hoarst picked out subtly concealed platforms for archers and numerous overlooks where rocks had been poised, needing only a trigger or a little leverage before they would tumble downward, crushing hapless interlopers in the passages below.

His initial inspection completed, Hoarst looked for his intended destination, and found it in a great house overlooking the largest of the three lakes. Still invisible, he made his way down a smooth path toward the place. He passed a broad practice field, where hundreds of men in black tunics were being drilled by hoarse-voiced sergeants. Some worked on tightly disciplined pike formations, while others fired volleys of arrows at straw targets, or bashed at each other with swords that, while dull, seemed to be made of steel or iron. The wizard heard more than one bone get cracked in the few moments it took him to traverse the field.

The great house was new, a gleaming stone structure with towers at the corners and battlements along the top of the walls. The windows were small and narrow, for defensive purposes. The defenses were well designed, Hoarst realized, taking in the fact that the roadway was the only feasible approach through the marshy ground. The treacherous ground surrounded the great structure on three of four sides.

The Thorn Knight was pleased by everything he saw.

The front gates to the place were closed, but through the iron bars he noted a courtyard, with the doors to the house only twenty paces away. No guard could be spotted, but he knew there would be one. A quick spell of flight, the enchantment cast with an inaudible whisper, lifted the invisible mage to the top of the wall, where he spotted a pair of men-at-arms, who wore black, scale-armor shirts and steel helmets. One was snoozing with his back against the wall, but the other watched the road with every indication of alertness.

Of course, no level of alertness permitted a man to see that which could not be seen. Nor could a guard hear silence, and Hoarst made sure to move slowly so that not even any slight breeze would cause his invisible robe to rustle. He glided over the wall and swooped into the courtyard. At the last minute, he veered away from the front door, climbing through the air, banking around the corner of the house. He came to rest on the largest balcony of the house, a broad expanse of marbled surface that offered a splendid view of the nearby lake and the surrounding mountain peaks.

That was where he would find the man he was seeking. Pleased to note that the doors to the balcony were open, he strode into a vaulted chamber, the centerpiece of a splendid suite of rooms.

A man sat alone at a vast table, scribbling notes on a great sheet of parchment-a map. Hoarst silently came up from behind.

“Captain Blackgaard,” the Thorn Knight said softly, allowing his spell of invisibility to fall away like a cloak shrugged off. “I was hoping I would find you here.”

The seated man sprang to his feet, knocking his chair over and pulling a stiletto from his belt as he spun to face the intruder. Even startled, Blackgaard had the presence of mind to pull a blank sheet of scrip over the map, the Thorn Knight was amused to see, trying to conceal it from view. For a full breath, the knight’s knife hand trembled, the tip of the blade pushed up against the wizard’s heart.

“Gray Hoarst?” the captain finally gasped, lowering the knife and clapping a hand to his chest in astonishment. “You might have gotten yourself killed-or killed me from the surprise!”

Even so, the accusation was more surprised than angry. Hoarst chuckled. “If a mere shock is enough to slay you, good captain, then perhaps you are not the man that I need to see.”

“Figure of speech,” Blackgaard said gruffly, sheathing his knife. With a quick glance at the concealed map, he shrugged and crossed to a cupboard and opened the door. “Can I offer you a drink, old friend?” He was already removing a crystal decanter containing a dark brown liquid, so Hoarst replied in the affirmative and took a chair at the large table, a respectful distance away from where Blackgaard had been working.

The captain handed the drink to his visitor and they clinked glasses.

“I’m happy to see you escaped the foothills alive,” Hoarst allowed, taking a sip of what proved to be a splendid whiskey.

Blackgaard chuckled grimly. “No thanks to our mutual boss. Last I saw, he was heading for the southern horizon. I rode away with four hundred men, with the Solamnics too worn out to chase us.”

“It seems you have collected considerably more than four hundred men, in the meantime.”

The captain, a former Dark Knight who had progressed naturally into the role of mercenary, nodded. “I have five thousand here, and an equal number can be mustered in a few days.”

“This is an interesting choice of location,” the wizard noted. “The north Vingaard Range? You’re situated rather close to the Solamnics, aren’t you?”

“It’s close, true, but perfectly safe,” Blackgaard replied. “This valley was part of the landscape that Khellendros devastated back in the day. All the people were killed or driven out, and it’s been pretty well written off since then. No travelers pass this way. As you saw, we’ve managed to make a tidy little fortress here for our purposes.”

“Ah, yes. But I wonder, are you and your men feeling suited for life as farmers and herdsmen? Or do you miss the beat of the martial drum? Are you still warriors, in your hearts?”

“That always depends,” the captain replied cautiously, “on choosing the right fight, the right war.”

“The right war? Or the right prize?”

“Same difference.”

“Then you might be willing to wage war again, for the biggest prize of all?” Hoarst watched the other man carefully, already sensing the answer. He knew because he had glimpsed the map that Blackgaard had been studying before the mercenary had time to cover it.

“You mean, do I think of reconquering Palanthas?” asked the military man. He looked toward the concealed map, winked, and nodded. “I think we have much to talk about,” he added.